The Thief Queen
by airbendergal
Summary: She is an Imperial on the run. Escaping from her abusive, murderous father, Solir Ezelino manages to escape past the Jerall Mountains and into the province of Skyrim. After a series of unfortunate events, the woman finds herself in Riften, and in the Thieves Guild. There, her adventure truly begins.
1. Darkness Falls

**Chapter 1: Darkness Falls**

The darkness fell over the Jerall Mountains. The snow crunched vigorously beneath the galloping horse's hooves. The brush had gotten denser as we moved through the monochrome forest. The silhouettes of spindly trees were like limbs of Restless Draugr, clawing at us in the wind. In the distance, a wolf or two howled, which only made me make faster our pace. I led my horse through the trees with only the light of the full moon to guide us. We had to reach the border of Skyrim before the sunrise, and a night in Tamriel could pass quicker than a Khajiit sneak-thief running through the sands of Elsweyr.

A pack of wolves surfaced not so far behind us. I could hear their snarls and growls; they were hungry and they could smell food. An Imperial woman and her horse for dinner was no less of an option to satisfy their stomachs. Oh, how they could smell the fear in us. The alpha male howled a long, bone-chilling hull and picked up his pace. Skimming through the mess of trees, they pursued us.

"Faster, Rivett, faster! Ride like the wind!" I called down to my Horse as he glided into the fastest gallop I had ever experienced. Bits of snow beneath my feet took to the air. I looked back, the gust of air almost shrieking in my ears, and saw that the beasts had halted their advance. Their shadows grew farther and farther away until they were eaten up by the opaqueness of the trees.

A few moments after I had forcefully tugged at the reins, ordering the steed to stop. The horse was startled. Rivett got on his hind legs and neighed, kicking the air powerfully with his front legs. I slid all the way to the back of my saddle, almost falling off, were it not for the footrests that latched me on to the stallion. The black horse came down with a _thud_, and his feet bit into the thick snowfield. When he had finally settled, I dismounted the horse. My legs were shaking out of both cold and fear. Cold, for we had journey far into the northern regions of Cyrodiil, where the harsh northern air of Skyrim seeped into the capital through the towering Jerall Mountains. Fear, for I had just come close to meeting Arkay by the shores of the Lake Rumare.

"_You'll be next, you ungrateful little brat_! _Touch but one of these septims and your head will go flying off!"_ Those words were still as if they were spoken to me a few moments ago. His money was thicker than his blood. Then, the image of a woman's bloodied body swam in front of my eyes.

I swallowed painfully, snapping myself out of the dark reverie. Tears welled out of my eyes. I had tried my best to hold them in for the long ride, I did. Nothing was supposed to distract me from escaping the old house, and Lake Rumare, Cyrodiil, and even the fate of a mother whose husband cared nothing about her once a fortune met him at the door. Now both of them were far from sight. I had to abandon my old life. The little drops of sadness, illuminated by the light of the moon, slowly fell to the snow.

White smoke steamed out of Rivett's nostrils as he released a jet of breath from it. He shook his head, shaking off the little snowflakes on his mane that made him shiver. "It is cold," I agreed with him, stroking his face. "Come, let's see how far we've made it from the city."

I found a little dirt path which lead to a cliff. Still sobbing, I led the black horse up the trail. We reached the clearing, and I fell silent. I had never seen a more amazing sight. A million stars dotted the heavens, and the great lights rippled in the sky. It was so different from a night in the Imperial City. Inside the city, the White-Gold tower would eat up the sky, and the darkness was but a veil stretched across the top of a smelted golden ore. The lights from the districts had overpowered the stars'. But now, they were so much clearer, so much more beautiful.

"Once we get to Skyrim, we'll start a new life. No more parents, no more traveling with father to Hammerfell. We'll settle down in some farm, perhaps. I heard crops grow well in Skyrim. And we'll even tend to those yaks that Nord merchant sold to us one time. Everything will be alright, Rivett. You'll see…" I said, a bit hopeful, as I looked up to the great northern lights.

Oh, how wrong I was that night.


	2. A Shade in the Snow

**Chapter 2: A Shade in The Snow**

The sky began to lighten over the mountains of the border of Skyrim. The air around us had gotten immensely cold. It was the sort of cold that could bite right down through your very bone. I was tired and restless the night before. Even in the shadows of the woods, I still felt very unsafe. I could feel my father's dark spirit still chasing me. Rivett and I traveled up the mount, to where the trees grew sparse and where the snow began to whirl around like a sandstorm in the Alik'r Desert. White washed out the sky. The cold wind beat against us. Moving slowly across the snowfield, I was huddled in a cloak made out of thin, cow hide. It was barely enough to brave the weather; my hands were freezing over and my lips turned a greyish-red. I heaved Rivett's reigns. "Come one, Rivett, move!" I managed to choke out.

The horse moved only a few steps forward, then shook its mane vigorously, neighing. He drummed his front feet on the snow. I continued to yank the ropes even more to get the steed rolling. "Come now! If we don't get out of here we are going to freeze to death!" I said, angered. The stubborn horse would not do a thing. A low flying white cloud mass was fast approaching towards us. The horse began to inch backwards, shaking his head. His harsh breaths steamed into the cold air. He turned his head left and started walking in a wobble. He was steering us off the track. "What's the mattered, you damned horse? Why are you so frightened! Move!"

Rivett was shaken by something. I could not understand him. I directed the horse to the right, and towards the fast-approaching cloud. I look around us and saw nothing but walls of white coming at us now in every direction. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath. I kicked at the horse's body to get it moving. Rivett got off into a quick gallop, moving mindlessly through the blank world. The wind howled terribly.

I directed him towards the fast approaching white cloud. The only way to descend from the mountain was the pass through the ravine the sloped downwards. Now the cloud was slowly eating up the path, and we had to enter it before it had been completely swallowed and hidden by the nebulous giant. The horse hesitated at first, but with a few harsh words thrown at him, he was able to follow through. He galloped through the snow, quickly, taking the fog head on. The ravine dipped into the province of Skyrim. As the descent began to steepen, I had slowed down his pace. The wind and precipitation was now less destructive as we had now entered a passage walled with sharp, irregularly-shaped black stone that block the monstrous wind. This pocket seemed to run down for about a mile or so. Snow here fell down like gentle feathers. At this time, the sun was peeking out over the mountains of Skyrim.

Seeing as the horse could travel no longer, I gave it a good pat and jumped off. Rivett lowered his head to the snow, sniffing the soft, crystalline sand. I huddled myself to keep warm and the blood circulating through my body. If I had stopped moving, I would have frozen over at an instant. It was amazing how Nords could live in this sort of unforgivable weather. In all truth, I would have imagined Skyrim to be much like Cyrodiil—where the sun shined brightly most of the time and weather was overall temperate. But, I was greeted by a snowstorm and my body placed in the state of an ice cube. I looked to the left, and to the right. I could see the path running on both directions into the fog; I had only visibility of half a mile or so. I edged towards the obsidian rock face and pressed my back against the cold wall. I crouched down, hugging my legs. I then rubbed my hands together and blew into them for warmth. "Rivett, come here."

The horse did not seem to hear me. It's head was still bent low and its tail sunk like a sad dog.

"I said _Rivett_. Rivett, why have you been acting so strangely today?" I called to him.

Just then, there was a bone-chilling roar.

My heart stopped. I had never heard a sound like it in my entire life. The piercing sound resonated through the ravine, and the rocks magnified it even more. The echo of the roar trailed fast behind it: the sound played repeatedly for about half a minute, bouncing through the airspace of the snowy wasteland. I shielded by ears, running to Rivett. The horse went into a frenzy. It stood high on its hind legs, neighing. I tried to calm him down. "Calm, calm!" I hissed, grabbing at his ropes. I looked to the skies, terrified. We were still veiled in a thick, white mist. I could not see anything.

"W-We're just hearing things, Rivett," I said shakily. I even tried to convince myself that I was not afraid. I pulled his ropes to keep him down. "Don't make so much noise. Y-You're awfully strange today…_Oh Divines_." The noise had suddenly returned, and this time, it was louder than ever.

Suddenly, a shade moved overhead. It was quick. It was flying. I could not tell how large it was, but it certainly casted a long shadow over us. The shadow quickly disappeared into the clouds. My eyes followed the shade as it disappeared and reappeared in different areas of the white-washed sky. I was most definitely certain we were being pursued by that very shade. But what could it have been? A bird, perhaps? Maybe birds were big in Skyrim. Or maybe…no…it couldn't have been…

After some thought, the best decision I could make was to make a run for it. I quickly mounted Rivett and whipped the ropes. "_Hiyaa!"_ I shouted, with an edge sharper than steel. We raced fast down the ravine. The shade suddenly disappeared, and that was when it began to get all too quiet. As the cloud front began to thin out, I could see the province of Skyrim spill out into view before me. Coming down the snowy mountain, I could see far into the land. In the distance, a ring of grey mountain heads jutted out from the earth. The ground started to become less arid and large, towering conifer trees dotted the slope.

"Skyrim!" I shouted. We had emerged out of the belly of the nimbus giant. I turned back, breathless, to look at the place where I had once came. The Jerall Mountains was a titan dividing the two provinces. I could hardly imagine that I had taken such a journey. The Jerall Moutains broke through the heavens, its peaks covered in thick heaps of clouds. I tried to spot the deathly shade that showed itself to us. But I could not find it. There were no large birds in sight, and neither were there any, nay I say it, dragons. Dragons don't exist. They have never existed for many years.

Now we were in Skyrim, the land of the Nords. At the sight of the lush, pine forest, and the cool breeze fingering through my hair, a sort of calm surrounded me. My heart started to flutter with happiness. I had finally made it out, far away from my father's grasp. There was no way he could have followed us all the way through the mountains. He cared too much for his precious life. I cared less about my life, and more so once a part of me had been taken away forever.

With passion burning in my heart, I steered Rivett down a thin dirt path. We moved slowly through the age-old taiga forest. The sound of a gentle, flowing stream and birds chirping enriched our senses. The ground was covered in crisp leaves and mossy boulders. The wet air smelled of fresh mountain flower. In the distance, a large elk pranced and boasted its giant horns. It was serene, and more beautiful than anything one can put down in words.

Rivett and I continued down the dirt path, following the stream. It seemed all too quiet. The birds had ceased chirping and no graceful deer were in sight. We found ourselves on the rim of a tall cliff. In the distant green, spires of smoke rose between the heads of conifer. "Come, Rivett. There are people there. Let's see who they are." Steadily I brought the horse down the steep slope, as the red-brown leaves and moss slipped beneath our feet.

The sight of a camp came before us. At the sight of a few armed men, I stopped the horse. I steered Rivett behind a cluster of mossy boulders. Hidden from their sight, I scaled up the rock to take a peek at the people. Upon further inspection, I saw that they were donned in blue cuirass and steel helmets. They were soldiers. They were seated around a fire, drinking wine from tankards. There was one man that caught my eye. He was not wearing a soldier's uniform, but a grey garb cloaked in thick fur. The man in fur stood up and walked towards a caravan positioned in the far back. Then, one of the soldiers came close to the fire and tore out a piece of skeever that roasted in the pit.

All seemed well, until there was a blast of light from my side. A tongue of fire rolled into the camp, setting the ground ablaze. Rivett neighed, frightened by the flames. The trees caught fire and their branches blackened and fell off. The soldiers got up in a startle. They drew their weapons. Mages started coming out from between the trees. Arrows rained down into the camp.

"_AMBUSH_!"


	3. End of the Line

**Chapter 3: End of the Line**

_"AMBUSH!"_

The iron rain came down. Arrows shot through the trees, ripping through the brush as a knife cuts through parchment. This deathly shade hit the some of the blue soldiers—bit through their skin and bone, pinning them to the ground. Blood spilled onto the camp site as a front of silver men stormed into the camp with their steel swords. Streaks of lightning flashed across the air, striking a man or two.

Rivett lost all of his sanity. In a mad dash, he drove himself into the crossfire.

"No, Rivett!" I screamed.

At an attempt to save my horse, I shortly ran after him without thinking. The damned thing had led me into heat of the battle. The blue soldiers were outnumbered three to one. I could see waves of silver soldiers advance and circle the camp.

Everything happened too fast. First, there was a large flash of light from my side. I turned to face it and saw that a large, flaming atronach had emerged from a spiraling, mid-air void. There was a loud, sucking sound as the portal behind it closed. The conjured creature, which resembled a horned lady birthed from molten lava, whirled fireballs at me. The flaming projectiles came towards me at terrible speed. I managed to dodge one, but then I felt an explosion to my side. My pants had caught fire. Instinctively I hit the ground, rolling. The searing pain shot down my body.

"Damn it," I muttered, gripping my burnt leg as I wallowed in pain.

I tried to get up, but I was swallowed up in discomfort. My legs were as useless as broken glass. I sat up in a hurry, looking around for some place to retreat to. I eyed a crack between two large boulders, and immediately pulled myself towards the rocks like a fish squirming breathlessly on land.

"I got you now, you damn Stormcloak!" A voice screamed from behind me.

The last thing I remembered seeing was the silver streak of a warhammer as it curved down and took a blow at my head. I fell to the ground. The world started to spin around me, and then everything became a big mess.

"Look, there's another one, on the ground…" a muffled voice spoke. The sounds of the steel clashing, and of men shouting, and of the dried leaves crunching beneath heavy feet—all of it started to melt away.

Then, I was swallowed up by the darkness.

When I had opened my eyes, I found myself bound, and on a wooden carriage. _Where am I?_ I thought. I looked around slowly, my eyes still a bit foggy. The vehicle hobbled down some sort old dirt road. To our front and back, a few more carriages were lined. Young trees and snow-covered rock faces lined the path as it followed the descending mountain slope. I then realized I was along with three other men: across me a blue soldier and a Nord covered up in a poorly spun tunic. Seated next to me was…it was that man in the thick, dark fur coat. He slumped down, his face all beat and bruised, and his mouth bound in cloth which rendered him speechless.

My heart started to pound vigorously when I realized that could have meant only one thing. I was caught. It all started to come back to me slowly:the ambush, the atronach, the men who screamed, _Stormcloak!_ And then, I fainted. And Rivett. Oh, Rivett! Where could that horse have gone to now?

"Hey, you!" It was the blue soldier. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

_Imperial_. That must have meant that the blue men were enemies of the empire.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," the theif in tattered clothes cut in spitefully. "Skyrim was completely fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell." He then turned to me and said. "You there, you and me—we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants!"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," replied the stormcloak soldier.

"Shut up back there!" hooted the Imperial soldier at the reins, irritated at the commotion.

The horse thief looked towards the gagged man, and after some time scrutinizing, he commented. "What's wrong with him?"

"Watch who you're talking to," hissed the Stormcloak soldier. "That's Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

"_Ulfric_?" the thief had hardly the breath to say it. "The Jarl of Windhelm? Leader of the rebellion? If they captured you, then—gods! Where are they taking us then? No…this can't be happening! This isn't happening! Oh Divines! Divines help me!"

The carriages rolled into a small, walled town. Ramparts of stone rose from the rocky ground. A few Imperials in were stationed up on the wall, and they watched in silence as we passed under the arc of the gates. As we entered into the walls of the confine, a group of soldiers and High Elves were gathered by the roadside.

"Let's get this thing over with, then!" a man in studded imperial armor joyfully exclaimed, as he raised a tankard filled to the brim with some sort of liquor. He seemed to be one of high position.

"Look at him, General Tullius, the military governor…and it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this," said the Stormcloak soldier, shaking his head in disbelief.

The carriage continued down the bend. Some townsfolk came out of their houses to see the line of vehicles as they paraded down the street as if it was some circus show. One little child came out from a house, and even ran after the cart to get a good look of the people onboard. The father of that boy came and dragged him out of the way, and then scolded him. "Listen, child. Get inside the house, now…" the father's voice trailed off as the vehicle drew farther and farther away.

"This is Helgen," said the blue soldier. He looked blankly at the ground for a long while, as if reflecting, and then snickered. "Funny. When I was a boy, the empire used to make me feel so safe…"

The carriage glided into a slower pace. We were heading towards the base of a tower in the middle of the village. The yard in front of the tower was filled with blue soldiers filing into lines. Imperial soldiers seemed to be inspecting them one by one. In the middle of the yard stood a masked man holding a large axe, and beside him a priestess, her hands raised to the air. My heart stopped at the sight of a man's decapitated head rolling off to the side of the road.

"W-why are we slowing down?" asked the horse thief, his lips quivering.

My head turned to the blue soldier, and I knew already what he was going to say.

"Isn't it obvious?" spat the Stormcloak in a hushed tone. "End of the line."


	4. Wings and Fire

**Chapter 4: Wings and Fire**

"Get down, prisoners!" boomed an Imperial lady donned in shining armor. She had olive skin and dark hair drawn to the back of her head in a half-ponytail. A fine steel suit and helmet, she had, made of pricy ore and carved in Legionnaire fashion. A captain, perhaps.

Slowly all the people in our cart dismounted the carriage, keeping their eyes low as we paced towards the long line of captives. I looked around, seeing the fearful look in all of their blank eyes. The tension in the air was thick, like a spread of honey over bread, leaving us breathless and shivering. Imperial flanks gathered in the courtyard. An archer or two was positioned by the highroad; while some armed soldiers strutted down the sorry lines of Stormcloaks.

"Wait, you have to tell them we're not rebels!" the horse thief said frantically. No one replied to him. The man continued to babble. "This is a mistake! You don't understand!"

"Step towards the block as we call your name!" called the lady captain. "One at a time!"

"Empire loves their damn lists," commented the Stormcloak soldier as he trod fast behind me.

Next to the captain was a man in a less intimidating attire, a scribe, taking note of the names of the captured men and women. He was reading out names. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm…" And the fur-covered man, having no choice, made his way towards the block.

"It's been an honor serving you, Jarl Ulfric," said the blue soldier, lowering his head. At the sound of his name, Ralof, he lifted his shining eyes and retraced his master's path to the deathly block. Some other blue soldiers from other lines followed behind him.

"Lokir from Rorikstead," called out the scribe.

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" blurted out the horse thief. In a panic, he took off, pushing past the captain and scribe. Almost stumbling over the uneven pavement, Lokir dashed unshod through the streets of Helgen, sprinting for the high road.

"Halt!" cried the captain. But seeing that Lokir did not heed her, she commanded. "Archers!"

The archers drew their bows. The arrows took off. The next thing I knew the horse thief bound for Hammerfell fell to the earth, an iron arrow jutting out from the side of his head. The Imperials watched until the shell of Lokir became motionless. Then, their eyes turned to me. It was my turn to be called to the block.

"You," said the scribe. "You there. Come forward. Who…who are you?"

"Solir," I said in a trembling voice. "Solir Ezelino of Cyrodiil."

The captain and the scribe exchanged glances for a second. After exhaling deeply, the scribe told me. "You're an awfully long way from the capital, Imperial. What mess did you get into?" and then he turned to his superior and said. "What do we do with her, captain? She's not on the list."

"Forget the list," replied the captain curtly. "She goes to the block."

"Yes, captain…" The scribe's tone of voice bordered on dismay. He then faced me and said. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure that your remains will be returned to the city."

I remained silent, my eyes foggy.

"Ezelino, am I right? Your house is a minor weapon supplier for the Legion," said the captain, as if it was some sort of consolation. "Those who live by the blade, die by the blade. Now follow me to the block."

My heart was racing vigorously. I was going to die. I escaped, only to die again. What had I done to have merited such a fate? Were the divines angered at me? Was this punishment for all the sins I committed in my lifetime? What could a woman done wrong in twenty-five years?

I walked behind the Imperial captain as she lead me to the beheading block. I found a place in between two Stormcloak soldiers, and watched as General Tullius gave words to Jarl Ulfric. "Ulfric Stormcloak…" he said, with a hint of cockiness in his voice. "Some people call you a hero. But heroes don't use a power like The Voice to kill his king and usurp his throne. You started this war—plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

Tullius' words were cut off by a sound. It was that same, bone-chilling roar I had heard up in the Jeralls. It seemed to be coming from somewhere far, but gods know how fast sound traveled in this cold air. All heads turned to the sky. I panned the sky, looking towards the bordering mountains. I swear, something would have come out of the fog covered peaks.

"What was that?" the scribe asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on," Tullius replied, walking away from the Jarl. He took his position below the base of a tower, together with some Thalmor agents. The High Elves and the general exchanged hushed words.

"Give them their last rites," the captain ordered to the priestess.

At her command, the priestess raised her hands to the air, saying in a solemn voice. "As we commend your souls, let the blessings of the Eight Divines—"

An impatient Stormcloak soldier interrupted her. "—For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this damned thing over with!" and this man was so bold that he even showed himself to the block and took his position on the ground. The captain pushed the man down until his neck felt the cold stone. The executioner raised his large axe and swung it mightily. I could only watch in horror as his headless body fell lifeless to the ground.

"Imperial Bastards!" cried a Stormcloak.

"As fearless in death, as he was in life," Ralof said, shaking his head.

"Next, the Imperial woman!"

Just before I could move an inch, the horrifying sound had returned, and it sounded closer than ever. The paranoia was kicking in within the courtyard. I could hear some of the armor ringing like a bell. "There is it again!" the scribe exclaimed, the quill in his hand shaking. "Did you hear that?"

"I said '_next'_!" the captain repeated. She was already angered by the fact the execution had been greatly delayed. Her sharp gaze went to me as she ordered. "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy…"

I slowly reluctantly made my way to the beheading table. Taking a good look at the faces of the my judges: the captain, the priestess, the scribe, General Tullius, and the executioner, I took a moment to breathe as I knelt down. The cold ground was like animal, biting at the skin. The air around me suddenly became crisp. As the woman in silver fastened me to the ground, I could only see my executioner, the tower of Helgen and the grey skies above it.

"Any last words, Imperial?" I could only hear the voice of the captain.

I thought about it for a moment. "My father…tell him I will not forgive him…" My voice trailed off into a soft sob. Tears started welling out of my glassy eyes.

There was no response from the captain. I could only feel the sole of her boot pressed firmly against my back. I breathed heavily, and watched as my killer raised his axe high into the air, so high that it caught the sun's light and its blade shimmered brilliantly. But behind the great light, I could make out a figure moving through the skies. It was large, and dark, and it had wings. It soared through the sky like a bird. Then, the ear-piercing roar.

"What was that? Sentry, what do you see?" the captain cried. Her boot was lifted from my back.

I heard screams, and the sound of swords being sheathed. A great shadow flew overhead and blocked the sun. It spread its bat-like wings to a span greater than the diameter of the courtyard, and landed squarely on the top of the tower like a bird perched on a branch. The shade in the snow, the creature that made the incredible cry—it could have been no other than this beast!

"Dragon! Dragon!" I could hear people calling out from around me.

The great, winged beast opened its jaws and a blasted out its voice that made the very air around it ripple. The clouds began to gather above it, and they swirled into a mighty tempest. Fireballs rained down from the sky, crashing into the ground. The dragon shouted out again, shooting out a blue wave from its mouth. The ground quaked. The sky split.

"_Yol Toor Shul!_" And a great fire storm lit up the heavens.


	5. The Escape

**Chapter 5: The Escape**

The sky around us turned into a tempest of fire. I fell to my side, weakened by the dragon's mighty shout. The air eddied like an immense wave of heat, just how the horizons in the Alik'r desert dance as the sun radiates on the sand. My head was throbbing vigorously, my heart fluttering. I was stunned, and something was boiling inside me, almost at the verge of exploding. The people that darted pass me were like shadows, and everything was so blurry.

"Guards, get the townspeople to safety!" I heard Tullius cry.

Then, I felt someone shake me. "Hey, Imperial! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" I shook my head to focus my vision and found myself staring into Ralof's face. Immediately I was knocked back into my senses. I had to get out of here, and the only way to do so was to follow the Stormcloak soldier. Getting up on my weak feet, I realized the man had already started running away. "This way, follow me to the keep!"

Bits of stone blew up in front of me. The great tower that rose above Helgen, smashed into large chunks of debris. The flame storm continued to fall, and the dragon took to the air, baring its mighty wings to Skyrim. The town of Helgen was crumbling before my very eyes. I took off and followed Ralof to another tower, this time smaller and still intact. I sprinted in, and he barred the door behind us. Ulfric Stormcloak was in this structure too.

"Jarl Ulfric, could the legends be true?" asked Ralof, breathless.

"Legends don't burn down villages," replied the jarl in a still, anxious voice.

"We need to move, now!" he said, as he looked to me. "Up through the tower, go!"

I nodded my head. Ralof and I ran the grey, blanched steps that spiraled up the tower. My heart was racing, and I had no time to catch my breath. Then all of a sudden, the wall in front of us collapsed, and the head of a large, silver beast broke through the hole. "_Yol Tur Shool!_"

"Get back!" Ralof gasped, as a large blast of fire rolled across the floor. The dragon's long piercing screech was like metal against a grindstone.

"The dragon!" I cried as the silver beast's head receded out of the hole. It pushed himself off the tower and launched itself into the air. Its wings caught the wind and the dragon soared into the sky. Flying over the little stone houses, he vomited flames from its mouth. The roofs were set ablaze, a stark contrast from the icy cold mountain tops that birthed frigid winds.

"See that inn? Jump through the roof and get going! We'll follow close behind!"

I could see the roof of the inn punched with a large, gaping hole a few meters away. The rest of my line of sight was blocked by a thick spire of smoke. I looked around me for a second, and seeing no other option out of this mess, I decided to jump. I leapt to the inn's roof, landing with a thud. The boards under me suddenly gave way and I fell into the inn. "Oomph!" Splinters of charred wood and burnt hay flew across the floor. I groaned, trying my best to get up. The world around me had started to spin, but I pushed myself to keep conscious. I did not come all this way to die. I came to Skyrim for my freedom, and not for my death.

Even with blood sullied all over my arms and a terrible pain that stung the back of my neck, I continued. I got up, shakily, and raised my left hand into the air then cupped my fingers. A brilliant ball of light formed in my palm, and with the sound of chimes as streaks of white and gold wrapped around me, I unsheathed my hands. The blood had crawled back into the pores of my skin. I knew a bit of Restoration magic, and that had greatly aided me.

I pushed pass the swinging doors of the sin and back into the flaming courtyard. Some Imperials were still pursuing the dragon, who had perched atop a burning house. A few moments later he flew off, and circle over the town. I looked around aimlessly. The stone walls of Helgen were giving way; the fires, slowly eating up the enclosure. Ulfric and Ralof were nowhere in sight. I located the scribe, an imperial and a little Nord boy were crouching behind a big mass of debris. "Stay back, boy!" said the imperial. And he spotted me as I edged towards him. "And hey, prisoner! Still alive? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way! Gunmar, take care of the boy. I'll go and find General Tullius to join the defense."

"Gods protect you, Hadvar!"said Gunmar squatting, holding the boy close to him and shielded his head with his hand.

Hadvar and I ran through the little passageways between the houses. Little lines of smoke rose from the rooftops, the air was thick with the smell of dust and smolder. The shadow of the dragon rippled across the cobblestone streets. The shade grew immensely larger, and closer, and more opaque. "Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar cried, as he drew his blade. _Thud_! A hail of gravel rain down upon us. I looked up and found myself staring at the belly of the great wyrm.

"_Yol Tur Shool!"_ It cried again, before taking flight. In the distance, a home burst into flames.

"Gods help us," I muttered, as we crossed into the town streets. Hadvar and I made it down the meadery, through an arc and into a large clearing. The dragon was circling above us. Imperial archers shot arrows at the dragon but all of them missed. The large beast was incredible agile.

"Into the keep, prisoner!" Hadvar said in a voice above the chaos. He was suddenly assaulted and pushed down to the ground by a blue shade. "Ralof, you traitor! Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time!" Ralof shouted.

The dragon roared. The scribe had his eyes focused on the flying, silver beast that bore its wings at us. The dragon landed squarely on the parapets of the broken wall. "Yol-"

At the words of the beast, Hadvar broke. "Fine! Let the damn dragon take you all to Sovngarde!" the scribe yelled back. I watched as he ran into another tower. A trail of fire followed close behind him.

"Imperial, come on! Follow me!" Ralof cried, heaving open the heavy wooden door of the tower to my right. I scrambled inside, and he soon followed after. He shut the door tight, and once that was done, the Stormcloak exhaled deeply and slumped against the wood, exhausted.

The roars of the beast were muffled by the thick stone walls of the keep. The place was untouched—the mossy, grey walls were all intact and banners of the Legion were perfectly hung. There was an awful, eerie silence for a few moments. Ralof treaded ahead of me. I saw him edge towards the shell of a dead Stormcloak lying across the landing. It was one of his brothers. The Nord kneeled, and placed his hands over his eyes, then stroked the dead man's face. "I'll see you in Sovngarde, brother…" he said in a solemn voice.

I looked down on them with a heavy heart.

Ralof looked up at me and said. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. That thing—it was a dragon, no doubt. Just like in the children's stories and legends. Harbringers of the End of Time. We better get moving, then, before that beast or the Imperials come to get us. Take his sword, the man won't be using it anymore."

I stripped off the dead soldier's belt and placed it around my waist. When it was fit, I unsheathed the sword from my side. The iron sword was quite old and battletested, based on the faint scratch marks on the metal that showed themselves as the light hit the blade, and the loose hilt. Nevertheless, a sword, and possibly the line between life and death. I gripped the weapon with both of my hands and swung it at the air in front of me.

"You are experienced, Imperial?" asked Ralof.

"My family makes weapons," I told him, and decided to leave out the 'for the empire' part. "Ever since I was a little girl, I was exposed to swords and shields. We travel from Cyrodiil to Hammerfell, and back."

The stone walls around us began to shake.

"That's not good. We better get moving. There's an entire network of passageways under the city. We can find a way out there." And we got started. We found a path beneath the tower, and traveled it. The walls transitioned from grey riff-raff to natural rock. The paved floor sooner broke off into damp soil, and the ceiling caved downwards. The smell of the earth and hints of excrement hit our noses. As we furthered down the path, we entered into a cave. The ceiling was filled with large stalactite, and in the distance, an aquifer flowed down from a rock face.

"There, the exit," I told Ralof, pointing to an immense light in the far back.

"You're pretty smart, lass. What's your name again?" he said, as he tread a few feet in front of me.

"Solir."

We reached the mouth of the cave. The blinding light gave way to the view of Skyrim. The snow-capped mountains, and the hilly terrain dotted with large coniferous trees all swam into view. There was a sudden cold breeze that made me shudder. I hugged myself for warmth, and rubbed my now shaking hands together. The Stormcloak soldier laughed, and patted my back. He seemed to be entertained at my vulnerability to the cold.

"Not used to the weather, eh? Don't worry, give it a few weeks and your body will adapt to the temperature," Ralof said haughtily, then his tone turned serious. "But Solir…you have witnessed the true face of the Empire today. I can't blame you for being an imperial, but now you know our worthy cause. We must fight to stop those people from killing more of the innocent, and to give us back our way of life. If you know any true sons and daughters of Skyrim, then you'll join us. Join the Stormcloaks."

I was silent for a while. I could have said yes, but my heart was not set on joining a side. I didn't need another problem in my life. I just looked at him with blank expression in my eyes, as if I could not understand.

He broke the silence with a chuckle. "Don't worry! You'll have much time to think about that…" And Ralof looked out to the wilderness. "My hometown, Riverwood, is not far from here. You are free to come to our house. My sister will dress you up and give you a nice warm bath. And the sweet rolls she makes are the best in Skyrim."

Sweet rolls? My stomach began to grumble loudly. I clenched my stomach. The invitation seemed to be a pretty honest one. "Alright," I told Ralof. "I'll join you to Riverwood. Thank you."


	6. Lucan's Letter

**Chapter 6: Lucan's Letter:**

The sleepy town of Riverwood was not far from the cave. The place sat by the bend of a river. There were little stone houses with straw roofs, a smithy, a small plot of land for wheat farming, and a saw mill by the water. Chickens and stray dogs ran freely down the dirt roads. A few children were playing on the porch of the Sleeping Giant Inn. An old woman was swinging on her rocking chair. It was very peaceful.

Ralof approached a middle-aged lumberjack. He was bald and had a full, blonde beard. The man was chopping some firewood by the side smithy. "Hod!" the stormcloak exclaimed. The lumberjack raised his head to see who had called him. At the sight of Ralof, the man's eyes widened. Hod immediately dropped his axe and came to meet the soldier.

"Ralof, thank the gods," he said with lost breath. "You've finally come back. It's been two weeks. Gerdur's been so worried. She hasn't been talking much lately. When we had gotten news that the Imperials had captured your camp a few days ago by Darkwater Crossing, we thought we had lost you. But now you're here, and we have to tell your sister. Come! I'm sure you and…" His eyes trailed off from the soldier's face to mine. His eyebrows knit.

"Don't worry, Hod, she's a friend," Ralof assured him, raising his hands. "This is Solir. She too was captured by the Imperials, and we escaped from Helgen. You wouldn't believe what happened! Hod, you should have seen it! A dragon attacked the town and burnt the whole place to the ground."

"_Dragon_?" he said in a hushed tone. He shook his head in disbelief. "That's nonsense. You must be very hungry. Come to our place. I'm sure Gerdur has some sweet rolls for the both of you." And he halted his work to escort us to his home by the mill.

Hod and Gerdur's home was simple and cozy. The first thing that greeted us when Hod opened the door was a large fireplace with a cooking spit. When we entered, the room began to fill us up with its warmth. Gerdur was at the spit, minding her own business as she mixed a certain stew in a burnt, iron pot. The smell of the meal reached into my nose, and at once my stomach began to cry out.

"Hod, pass me the leeks, would you?" she said in a dry unpleasant tone, her back turned on us.

"You'll have time for that later, woman! Look who's here!" Hod replied.

Gerdur turned her head. Her face suddenly lit up as Ralof approached her. "Oh, brother!" she exclaimed, as tears started coming out of her eyes. The two siblings exchanged a long, warm hug. "I thought you were lost to us forever. Thank the gods you're back! Are you hurt? We could always get a potion from Lucan's. How about hungry? I'm making vegetable soup…your favorite—"

"—Gerdur, I'm fine!" Ralof told her, smiling. "I have so much to tell you."

"I'm sure you do!" Gerdur agreed. "And who is this? A comrade?"

"Not a comrade, a friend. In fact I owe her my life. This is Solir. We escaped together from Helgen."

"You escaped?" Gerdur's eyes widened. "But it is safe for you to be here?"

"For now," replied her brother. He then turned to me. "Oh! Solir, this is my sister, Gerdur. She and her husband, Hod, run the Riverwood Mill."

I looked at the woman and stuck out my hand for her to shake it. But she didn't.

The woman scrutinized me for a second. "Hmm…You're a pretty one, I'll give you that. Just stay away from my husband," she teased. I shared in a laugh. "Yes, very well. We'll need to get you cleaned and fed. And you're in luck. A delivery from one of my friends in Windhelm came today. She gave me a package of slaughterfish meat. How'd you feel about some seared slaughterfish, hmm?"

"I haven't tried slaughterfish before, sorry," I replied, lowering my head in shame.

"First time in Skyrim, huh? Well that's alright! You'll taste the finest slaughterfish, made by one of the finest cooks in Riverwood. Though I don't think I'll be able to top Delphine in the Sleeping Giant Inn. That Breton makes the best food here." After she was done with the stew, the woman brought me with her to her chest at the right end of the house. She took out some miner's clothes and boots, and then passed them to me. "Here, you can have these clothes. They belonged to Hod's sister. And I'll have some water heated for you in a few minutes."

"Thank you," I replied. "I'm hope that I'm not burdening you or anything."

"Don't worry yourself," she said smiling. "Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine."

The luncheon was composed of hearty vegetable stew, seared slaughterfish and rabbit haunches. Hod drew out a bottle of Alto wine from a rack by the side of the spit and we shared it. I was already saturated with the one glass of liquor, but the Nords had a far greater tolerance than I. Ralof insisted for more, and the two men ended up finishing two and a half bottles. Hod grabbed a rabbit haunch with his large hands and tore the bits with his mouth. Bits and pieces of meat flew across the table as he yanked a portion of meat off the leg bone. The Nord way of eating to me seemed a bit more _barbaric, _gods forbid I use that word. And once the soldier was half-full he began his story.

"And there we were, on the way to the block! The girl here was about to get beheaded when a giant dragon swooped down from the sky!" Ralof told them the story complete with exaggerated gesticulations. His face had a tinge of red. "The mighty beast used the power of the Voice to call about a great fire storm!"

"A _real_, live dragon?" Gerdur said, raising her brow.

"I could barely believe it myself! It was large, silver and scaly. It had wings larger than a tower, and a mouth that looked like a pit filled with spikes. And the dragon fire was a hundred times stronger than any Arch-Mage's firebolt! You should have seen it! There were over a hundred imperials in Helgen, and yet none of them could match up to the power of a single dragon. If the Stormcloaks had that power, wow! We could wipe out the entire Legion with a single _Thu'um_! As strange as it sounds, if it weren't for the dragon we'd be dead. We used their confusion in order to escape."

"A thu'um?" I asked.

"An ancient form of magic, a gift by Kynareth herself," Gerdur explained. "A thu'um is a dragon shout, a powerful force harnessed by people who have long studied The Way of the Voice. No one really uses the thu'um. Only a few have studied its ways. One example is Jarl Ulfric, who used the voice to kill the High King Torryg."

"And that's exactly why Skyrim's been in so much turmoil. But what can we do? Ulfric's only been protecting our way of life," Hod commented. "But Ralof, how did this dragon look like? Was it really like in those children's stories? Ha! Those damn Imperials finally got what's coming to them."

The intense story-telling was halted by a knock on the door. At once everyone turned silent, and their heads turned to the door. Ralof and I looked at each other and exchanged worried glances. Hod instinctively reached out for his axe by the side of the dining table. Gerdur stood up slowly and told us. "Stay behind the wardrobe. Go." And she inched her way to the door.

I nodded my head. I stood up and crossed the room to the sleeping area. A big wardrobe was positioned against a wall. There was some space next to it to hide. Ralof let me go first, and then he went to me. We pressed our backs against the wall and tried to thin ourselves out of sight. I tried to stop breathing. My heart was pounding vigorously.

The knocking continued. "Who is it?" Gerdur called, refusing to open the door.

"Gerdur, it's me!" said the voice.

The woman seemed to have recognized that voice. "Lucan?" And she swung the door open.

I exhaled sharply. We stopped becoming stiff and came out of our hiding places. Lucan Valerius, the man who owned the Riverwood Trader was at the door. He was an Imperial, just like I, in his forties. "Good day to you, Gerdur," he greeted politely. "Oh I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your lunch? I'm sure your husband's been starvin'. Saw him working at the mill ever since five in the morning."

"No, you haven't, Lucan," Gerdur said, exhaling. "Sorry, we were expecting someone else. What do you need? Are you here to order another batch of firewood?"

"Well, I was here to ask you a favor, actually," he replied. Lucan's voice trailed off into a nervous laugh. "Erm…well…it's a big favor. You see, a few days ago, I was given a letter from Maven Black-Briar. She's only ordered from me once before and now she's doing it again. Nobles don't usually order from the Riverwood Trader, so this came to me as a surprise. She wants a batch of _deathbell_ and _nirnroot_ delivered to her immediately. Maven says it's for her daughter. I've already got the items, but I can't go to Riften right now, even more so when I learned of this dragon-sighting from old Helgi. This dragon scare can bring about lots of gold from wary townsfolk. If I don't get this package around in a few days, the Black-Briars would stop ordering altogether; I'd lose a very important customer. Didn't you tell me Hod was on his way to Riften a few days ago?"

"That he is, but my husband isn't leaving 'til Mondas," Gerdur said, frowning.

"That's sad to hear," Lucan's face sunk. "These plants are perishables. If only there was someone who could deliver them for me."

"I'll look for someone around the town. I'm sure there's bound to be at least one person making his way to Riften. Maybe Faendal, Orgnar or Alvor? Hod can ask around. He'll inform you before sundown."

"Hey!" Hod complained. He stopped whining when his wife snapped at him. "Okay, fine."

"Thanks, Gerdur. I knew I could count on you," Lucan smiled. "Here, have some healing potions for your troubles. Just got them from Belethor's in Whiterun. Who knows, they could be more potent than the one's you've got stored in your closet." The trader got out three red bottles from the inside of his satchel and passed them to Gerdur. The Nord woman thanked him, and closed the door as Lucan started walking away.

"That was a close one," she breathed.

"And I was so ready to chop those Imperial bastards' heads off!" Hod exclaimed, swinging his axe at the air in front of him. "Damn it."

"Poor Lucan," Gerdur sighed. "No one's going to bring his package to Riften."

"Is Riften _far_ from here?" I asked her. This could be my chance to get farther away from Cyrodiil.

"Yes, quite far. It would take a person three days to get there by horse. It's located in the rightmost part of the province, next to the Veloth Mountains and the border of Morrowind. The Rift's also a dangerous place, filled with bandits and thieves, so no one really travels there unless he's on an official errand. Why do you ask? Are you…interested in bringing Lucan's package?"

"I could bring the package, if you want," I told Gerdur. I tried to find a way to tell them how I ended up in Skyrim. "You see, I'm trying to get as far away as possible from my father. I escaped my home back in Cyrodiil after he murdered my mother. And now he's after me. If I bring the items to Riften, I could find a place for myself there and hide it out there until the time's right. And I doubt he'll be looking into a den of thieves. He barely had the stomach to acknowledge his pride."

The lady was silent for a while, as if contemplating. "I'm very sorry to hear that, lass," she finally said after a long, awkward silence. "Hmm…I would not normally give such an important package to complete strangers, but I'll make an exception with you. Because Ralof trusts you, I will trust you as well. Deliver to package to Maven Black-Briar in Riften for Lucan. And as for the dragon attack, I'll head on to Whiterun and tell Jarl Balgruuf that a dragon's on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless."

"Thank you. Thank you so much," I said, smiling warmly. "I really appreciate it."

Gerdur gave me a hug. "No problem. Ah, you remind me of myself when I was your age!" She then turned to her husband. "Hod, go tell Lucan Valerius that Solir will be delivering the package. I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that someone will be traveling to the Rift."

Hod nodded and headed out the door.

"Godspeed, Solir," Ralof told me, as he cupped my shoulder. "To get to Riften, you must follow the road up north to Whiterun. When you get to the city, there will be a carriage at the stables. Bjorlam will be able to bring you safely to the Riften for 20 gold pieces. I'm sure you'll find your way there, you're a smart woman. Look, I don't have much to give you, but you can have my hunting bow. You'll be needing it in case anymore dragons swoop down. Also, it's good for keeping you safe from any thieves or highroad bandits. "

The siblings joined me as I walked out to the porch. The sun was still high up in the sky. I let the bow hang behind me along with a quiver of iron arrows, and a steel sword to my side. The cool Skyrim breeze fingered through my air. Hod came back to me with a light sac filled with deathbell and nirnroot. The glowing nirnroot sent out this strange, siren-like sound. I started to walk towards the highroad, but stopped for a moment to look back at the Stormcloak soldier and his sister. I waved at them, and they returned the gesture. As I passed the old Sleeping Giant Inn, I took notice of a middle-aged Breton sitting down on the porch with a large dog. It must have been that Delphine character Gerdur was telling me about.

There was something strange about the look in her eye as greeted me. "Safe travels, adventurer," she greeted with a discerning look. The dog came up to her and rubbed its head on her dress. She looked down at it and petted it.

I continued on across the bridge. I could see the large city of Whiterun in the distance. It was a walled city sitting upon a hill. At the top of the hill was a mighty palace that seemed to touch the sky. With fierce determination burning in my heart, I glided into a running pace, sprinting pass the bridge and onto the mountain path. "To Riften," I told myself. There was nothing else I had wanted more than this.


	7. The Rift

**Chapter 7: The Rift**

"Where are you headed?"

"To Riften."

"That'll be twenty gold pieces."

I rummaged through my satchel and was able to find the needed amount of gold. I passed it up to the carriage driver, who was sitting lazily on the driver's seat. His horse was just as energetic as him; its head was down, nostrils on the ground, and its tail sunk like a sad little dog. I could tell this man did not have passengers for quite some time. After fingering and mentally computing the coins, he gave a slow nod. He looked at me and said. "Name's Bjorlam. I'll be your driver for the day. Thank you for choosing the carriage; it's the safest way to get around Skyrim!"

The Nord hopped off the driver's seat to help pack the satchel into the carriage. He then bent down behind the cart to check on its back step and tail board. The blonde man secured all of his belongings to the side of the cart. After, he filled a pail with water and splashed his horse with it. The mare got up in a startle. Its front hooves drummed the ground, and its tail whipped around. The horse's nostrils drew white clouds as it released a jet of air. "Okay, hop on," he said.

I mounted the carriage, silent. The coach took out a whip from under his chair and beat the horse's ass. The mare neighed, and started off in a quick gallop. The carriage pulled forward, and in no time we began to move at full pace. The city of Whiterun behind us drew farther and farther away from sight. The plains that stretched out endlessly began to get swallowed by large conifers. We passed through the eastward pass, taking the highroad from Whiterun and into the hold of the Rift.

"How far is Riften from here?" I asked, edging closer to the coach so he could hear me speak.

"It's a full two days from here using the carriage. Is it your first time in Skyrim? Heh, you don't have to answer. I can tell by the looks of you. I've been all around Skyrim, transporting people all the way from Solitude to Riften. I brave even the coldest of weathers, like in Winterhold. Why, I've even been attacked by some thieves before, but they couldn't take me on!" Bjorlam bragged.

"That happened to my family before," I told the coach. "We were on our way to deliver some weapons Elinhir in Hammerfell, when some thieves attacked our caravan. They stole most of our goods, but luckily none of us were hurt."

"Ah, but enough about Bjorlam. I'll tell you more about the province of Skyrim, the land of the Nord. See that mountain over there? That's the Throat of the World, tallest in Tamriel. The Ancient monastery of High Hrothgar sits almost at the top. There the ancient Greybeards spend their days meditating on gods-know-what. Masters of the Voice, they are."

The carriage sharply curved right as we reached a junction. We followed the road as it dipped down a mountain path. The bumpy road made the vehicle quiver. Bjorlam's horse picked up its pace as it led us down the slope. We kept close to the mountain face, traveling down the highroad. In the distance I could see the misty mountains, and far well off as the icy, northern sea. I could see a large, walled city by its shore. "That's Windhelm," Bjorlam told me. "City of Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion. So far the Empire and the Stormcloaks have been fighting over cities in Skyrim. Jarls have sworn fealty to their own high kings, and the two opposing forces have been grabbing territories. Honestly, I never wanted to stick my ass into those things. I'm happy enough with a belly full of mead and a nice travel across the province."

"What do the Stormcloaks have against the Empire, anyway?" I hung my head.

"The Stormcloaks want to protect their way of life, that's what," Bjorlam said, turning his head back at me as he blindly steered the carriage. "The Empire forbade the worship of the Hero-God Talos after the White-Gold Concordat. That's what brought the Stormcloaks to Skyrim, and this is where the civil war's most felt."

"I see…"

The sun was now hanging over the horizon. The sky had turned a vivid yellow-orange. Streaks of red and violet painted the heavens, and over at the far end, a deep blue started to creep onto the pallet. It was a beautiful sight. The trees casted long shadows over the forest path. We followed a bend down the road, and found ourselves crossing paths with a majestic waterfall. The water raged incessantly, pouring down from a rock face and hitting a fjord below it. Serene was the only word that could describe it.

"We're half-way there," said the coach. "You better get some sleep. There's a bed roll under your seat, you could spread it out on the bench. Don't worry. Old Bjorlam's gonna take care of the rest of the ride." The muffled gallop of the horse as it tread upon the earth seemed to melt along with the sound of birds, and the gush of water. The cold air seemed to become cooler with each revolution of the spokes.

Sleep. That was something I haven't done quite some time. I bent downwards and pulled out the thick bed roll and unfurled it. The heavily padded thing hit the base of the cart with a thud. After heaving it up with some of my strength, I spread it across my bench, trying to keep my standing balance as the carriage continued down the trail. The cart hit a rock and it hopped a few inches of the ground. "_Oomph!" _I fumbled sideways, grabbing at the railings of the vehicle before I completely stumbled over. Bjorlam looked back and gave a good laugh. I spread myself across the bench and closed my eyes. The sounds of the forest slowly faded into a dream.

"_Listen to me, Solir. Hold the sword tightly at its grip, like this," my father demonstrated, putting his free hand on my sword's hilt. "Remember, the sword is an extension of your hand. It's not just a bar of cold steel. And using your sword, you must strike your opponent strong and steady in order to knock them down. Here, you try it on my. Swing your blade and hit mine." _

_The man took his position, and tossed the sword over to me. Stumbling forward, I managed to catch the weapon by its pommel. And that in itself was already very frightening._

"_But father, I don't want to fight. I don't want to get hurt," I told him, sobbing. _

"_Learn how to defend yourself. The best offense is a good defense. If someone attacks you, you have to be prepared. You have to keep yourself alive. The only way to do so is by wielding a sword. Thank the Divines for giving us hands, Solir. Our hands are the only things keeping us alive. Without them, I couldn't smith these fine armaments; neither could I have worked my way from poverty as a child. These hands have touched the finest gold and moonstone ore, diamonds and other gems, crafted them into jewelry more beautifully made by any Imperial blacksmith! Now come at me, child. Show me how skilled your hands are!" _

_Whooshhhhhhhhh!_ I was awakened by a terrifying sound. The carriage rocked under me, as I rolled off the bench and hit the base of the cart hard. It was terribly dark, and we were moving at an amazing speed. The wind was hissing at my ears. I scrambled up to my knees, and looked around aimlessly. I couldn't see anything beyond the vehicle. Bjorlam was at the reigns, hitting the horse hard on its hind with his whip. "_Hiyaa!_" he cried. "Faster, fool of a horse!"

"What's happening?" I asked, terrified.

"There's something over the trees! It's following us!" the coach replied, looking up at the skies. The heavens bore no stars that night. Even the moon herself was hiding in fear. As a terrible roar cut through the frigid air, my heart stopped. It was the silver dragon. It had come back to hunt me down.

"It's a dragon!" I cried, as the cart sped across the darkness. "It's the same one from Helgen!"

"What?" Bjorlam spat. The horse continued to dash uncontrollably into the night, the cart behind it being tossed around in its place like a banner in the wind.

"_Fo Krah Diin!"_ A loud, resonating shout shattered the air around it. A silver-blue streak shot out of the shadowy forest to our right. A great, winged figure emerged out of the head of trees. It was a dragon, just as I had predicted, but it was not the great silver one. It was another dragon, who breathed ice instead of fire.

"Watch out!" I exclaimed, as the silver ray made its ran towards the carriage. Bjorlam steered the horse sharply right. The carriage shaft snapped off from the horse. The stallion neighed fearfully, getting up on two legs and kicking the air in front of it. The cart tipped over and rolled, both of us still on it. It tumbled down a few meters down the slope. There was a sharp blow to my back, and then my head, and then the world started to spin. When the carriage finally stopped, I crawled out from the turned-over cart, seeing blood and bruised all over my arms.

"Take this, you damned dragon!" a voice yelled from behind me. I got out and leapt to my feet, still feeling nauseous. Bjorlam was fighting off the dragon alone, a bow in his hands and a quiver to his back. The carriage driver drew his bow and aimed for the flying beast. The arrow shot through the air and bit into the dragon's neck. The beast beat it wings and took off into the sky, circling high over the high road.

"_Fo Krah Diin!"_ Shouted the dragon. A blast of frost slammed into Bjorlam. He fell to the ground, the ice crawling up his body and nipping at his skin like millions of tiny, silver leeches.

The dragon turned around, its wings changing angulations to catch the wind. The silver streak drew a curve of the ground, and caught up to me. The ice breath bit into my foot, and I fell to the ground in pain, as the freezing deluge battered me. I tried to move, but the dragon's shout had rendered me almost solid. Struggling to get back into the cart, I grabbed at the air in front of me. My limbs moved slowly, unresponsive. I watched as the frost dragon pushed up to the sky, hovering meters above the ground. The glowing ice started to melt off my body, and the numbness faded away. I immediately took off to the cart and hid under it, patting the ground, feeling for Ralof's hunting bow.

"_You'll be needing it in case anymore dragons swoop down. Also, it's good for keeping you safe from any thieves or highroad bandits."_

I emerged from the cart with the soldier's hunting bow. I drew the bowstring to a full length, an arrow rested on my grip. I aimed at the sky, waiting for the frost dragon to advance towards me. And hark, he came! On great wings he soared through the night, a bloodied flying beast with arrows sticking out from its body! My limbs quivered as it held the drawn bow. The arrow shivered in fear. A few moments later the dragon suspended itself in mid-air, beating its wings against the ground. The sound was like a great battle drum.

It opened its mouth wide, and with great force, it shouted. "_Fo Krah—"_

I released the string. And with the blink of an eye the arrow cut through the air at a terrible speed, entering the jaws of the dragon. I saw the silver climb up its throat, but it was suddenly lost as the projectile pierced through the foe's head. It ripped through the skin, and passed through the bone, and emerged from the top of its skull like the tip of a pike. The dragon gave one last dying roar before it spiraled down from the sky and crashed into the ground with a tremendous force.

I ran to Bjorlam, who was still on the ground. The ice had frozen his body solid. His skin was a pale and splotched with dark purple bruises, and his face suspended in a horrified look. I tried to shake him, but he didn't respond. His ear suddenly cracked off his head. I fell back, startled. "No…" I said, my voice shaking. He was dead. Dead and frozen. Getting up, I raced back to the cart. The sac with the Black-Briar's items was still perfectly intact. I pulled it out from under the cart, and let it hang over my shoulder.

I slowly walked over to the dead dragon, and watched it as its body slumped to the ground. Then, something amazing happened. The dragon's skin began to dissolve and burn, like when you put paper into a fire. Little embers started to dance and flutter into the sky. I dropped the sac in fear. Lights started to come out of the dead dragon corpse. Rays of brilliant, golden light struck me. There was a sudden, sucking noise. The lights entered me, and my body began to burn. But I was not on fire. What was happening to me. I was motionless as the lights continued to enter me. I was both amazed and astounded. When the lights finally dimmed away, I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by the event that took over my senses.

Light rain started to pour. There was the muffled sound of thunder in the distance. I looked around me, seeing the highroad was a complete wreck. I grabbed the apothecary sac and started to run.


	8. A Chance Arrangement

**Chapter 8: A Chance Arrangement**

The feeling stuck to me like a burning horseshoe. That dragon—something had suddenly come out of it, and _transferred _to me. The supernatural lights were drawn into me, like I was some sort of soul gem. My body trembled as I ran through the forest. The burnt cart and the skeleton of the dragon began to grow farther and farther until it was swallowed up by the great black mass of trees. Clouds began to gather in the skies above, and the great celestial maiden began to wallow in her tears. The light rain pour through the trees; I was drenched as much as I was burnt. The dragon fire left holes in parts of my sleeves and bottoms. Ralof's hunting bow was charred on the edges.

I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding Riften, until I came across a few watchtowers sitting upon a steep slope. There were little fires dancing upon the rocks; guards, beaming their lights towards me. I climbed the slope, as a few guards came to meet me. "Did you see that? I swear to you, a dragon flying over the highroad!" One of them told me.

"That thing attacked us! It killed Bjorlam, the carriage driver!" I exclaimed in a frightened tone. Was that man too thick to have noticed my condition? "I…I don't know what happened afterwards, but it was like the dragon's soul entered my body…" I looked down at my trembling hands, trying to shake off the feeling that still lingered in my chest.

"You…_absorbed _its soul?" asked the guard, dumbstruck. A few more Rift guardsmen clumped behind him. A wave of whispers rolled across the back of the crowd. "You must be the Dragonborn, then."

"The Dragonborn? What is that?" I asked.

"A person born with the soul of a dragon. But no one's revealed themselves as Dragonborn for years," he replied, his voice muffled behind his metal mask. His tone turned from confused to suspicious. "Well, if you're really the dragonborn, then you have to shout, using your _Thu'um_!"

My eyes widened. Shout? Well, it was worth a shot. "AH!" I screamed loudly into the guards face. The man didn't move. I thought I had frozen him. I didn't think that this _Thu'um_ magic would be so illusive. It did not even manifest its form through some brilliant light or sound. "Well…did it work?"

The guard was still motionless. The other men behind him started to get frightened, they started to inspect the man I had shouted at. "Is he moving? What did that woman do? Did she stop time?" They all asked in soft, fearful whispers. They all started to become quiet, thought, when they saw their colleague start to tremble. The guard I shouted at clenched his fists, and in a heated voice cried out. "You're no dragonborn! You couldn't even shout! How dare you insult me! Insult me, and you insult the law! Get out of my sight, Imperial!" Apparently, he was so insulted he could not move.

"You don't understand, there was a real dragon, and—"

"_Out_!" He yelled, drawing his sword.

I stared into his blade as it glimmered in the firelight. The image of my father swam in front of my eyes. I could see his face: his thick black brows and his beady little eyes, and that sinister smile as he practiced swinging his sword in the middle of the night while he worked at the smithy. I could remember the shadows dancing across the walls…and the shadow—the silhouette of a woman being dragged down to her knees, and the blinding streak of the blade as it arced and nipped her in the neck.

I fell backwards, almost rolling a meter down the slope. The sac of apothecary items rolled further down. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the sac, and ran pass the watchtowers, onto a misty hill. The rain continued to buffet the Rift. In the distance, I could see the outline of a little, walled fishing town by a lakeside. I was drenched and completely fatigued, but I still managed to make it to the town gate. Two Rift guards were positioned by the barred entrance.

"Halt," commanded one of the guards. "All those who wish to enter the city of Riften need to pay a visitor's tax of a hundred gold pieces."

"This is the _city_ of a Riften?" I said in disbelief. I honestly thought that the city was much larger and much extravagant than this. It could have at least been as large as Whiterun. But I guess I had expected too much after coming from the Imperial City. "And what do you mean _fine_? This is surely a trick." I started becoming sick of the guards treating me this way. That other man refused to believe what happened to me! I bet he was just doing this so he could earn a few extra septims.

The gate guard sighed. "Alright, alright. You can go in. Just don't tell anyone that I said that to you, okay?"

I didn't reply. I waited in silence as the other guard went and heaved the heavy wooden doors open. I walked into the city, and heard the gates shut soundly behind me. Riften was definitely different from what I expected it to be. I thought it would have been a well-developed complex like the city of Elinhir or the Imperial City, but it was not. The city was a semi-circular complex built on stilts. The roads were poorly flattened out, and the extensions of wooden pathways and stairs mazed around the lower levels of the city. The stench of the sewers rose up into the marketplace. The only thing I found consoling were the nicely built log manors that circled the upper level of the city. There was a stark difference in lifestyle between the rich and the poor. In the middle of the city lay the inn, The Bee and the Barb. Its sign was swinging in the cold wind. Light coming from a rusty, hanging lamp danced across the entrance to the establishment.

"It's too late to give the package now," I told myself, realizing most of the people were already in their own homes. It was then when I decided to head for the inn and rent a room for the night. I could have given the Black-Briar woman the package by next morning. There was plenty of time to spare.

The Bee and the Barb was a large, log inn that was positioned in the heart of the city. Inside, the inn was well lit wit, warm and smelled of food and drink. Figureheads of elk and goat lined the walls. A number of tables were spread across the ground floor. An old Nord and his son were having a heated debate over some mead. An argonian male was busy sweeping the dust in a corner of the tavern area. A pink-faced man in a tattered, brown robe was at the counter. He faced me and said, "Hey, want a drink? Bet you can't beat me at a little contest."

"No, thanks," I replied with a hint of disgust. The man didn't seem too pleased with my answer. He turned back to the bartender and muttered to himself.

I crossed the room, looking for a place to sit. Most people were still feasting on the night's specialty: pheasant roast and tomato soup. My eyes scanned the area, and as I did, I found out that some man a few feet to my left had been staring me. He was an Imperial, sitting on one of the benches by the entrance. He had olive skin, a square face with sunken amber eyes, a hooked nose and long dark brown hair all drawn in a ponytail. The man was donned in mage's robes. I could see that he was a bit drowsy-looking. "Please, stop staring," I told him sternly.

"Sorry, couldn't help it. It's quite a rare occurrence for an Imperial to enter Riften. Much more a woman like yourself. You're so fragile; don't even think you could handle a goat. _Hic!_ I'm surprised the Stormcloaks haven't driven you out yet," he said, smiling wolfishly. He tipped his tankard, and the liquid swirled inside. "_Hic_!" The mage was definitely drunk.

I could feel his eyes on my very skin. I shuddered. I let out a sarcastic laugh, and then moved on to the counter. The innkeeper, an Argonian woman in a tight apron greeted me. "Welcome to the Bee and the Barb, the best inn in the Rift. I'm Keerava, and I'm the innkeeper. What can I get for you?"

"I'd like to rent a room," I told her.

"That'll be ten gold pieces," she said, smiling warmly. And when I gave her the money. "Thank you. Your room is upstairs, first room to the right. That'll be all. Just give me a call if you need anything else."

I nodded. I turned around, secured my coin purse and started walking for the stairs when someone bumped into me. The sac of _deathbell _and _nirnroot_ fell to the ground. I bent down to get the sac, already so very tired and irritated. I groaned loudly to signal whoever crossed my path to stay away. I looked up at the bumper, and realized that the person had been wearing expensive clothes. I had picked the wrong person to mess with. At once my face sunk in embarrassment.

"Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that gold you're carrying, eh lass?" he told me.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, confused.

"I'm saying, you've got the coin but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell," replied the man.

I hung my head, trying to hide my fear behind a façade of obliviousness. Who was this man? I tried to inspect the noble. He was tall, redheaded Nord with a strong face and had a square built. There was something about him that seemed so…_familiar._ Where have I seen him before? Maybe he was with me in Helgen? Maybe he was a merchant visiting our family's smithy once? The bell in my head was ringing so loudly. Maybe he knew I escaped from Cyrodiil and he was one of my father's spies. He knew I fled with a large sum of money. "H-how do you know that?"

"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing. It's all a dead give away."

"My wealth is none of your business," I snapped.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business," retorted the noble Nord, folding his arms. A smile slowly crept on his lips. "Maybe you'd like a taste?"

Those last few words hit me hard. His voice struck a chord in my memory. It was the same, exact voice of the thief leader who ambushed our caravan on the way to Elinhir. The same, exact words he used as he drew out a dagger and rested it on my father's neck. "_Shouldn't be crossing blades with me, lass. You wouldn't want a little accident to happen. Or perhaps a little blood would satisfy you, eh? Maybe you'd like a taste?"_ I had suddenly remembered who he was. He was no noble, but a member of the Thieves Guild.

That was when a brilliant idea popped into my head. In a rush of excitement, blood pushed up my head and made me as red as the drunk Imperial mage. "What do you have in mind?" The eagerness in my voice caught the thief man by surprise. He did not expect so much zeal from a complete stranger.

"Well, I've got an errand to perform, but I'm going to need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid. If you're really serious about this, meet me in the marketplace tomorrow morning, and I'll brief you on the assignment." His eyes seemed to be shifting somewhere below him. Something else had caught his attention towards the end of our conversation.

"Alright," I nodded. I was about to walk away when he tugged my sleeve.

"Wait," the thief man smiled. He took hold of my hand and dropped a coin purse in my palm. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was my stash of septims. I looked at him, awestruck. "You better be careful who you trust in this city, lass. Riften's filled with thieves."


	9. Breaking Locks

**Chapter 9: Breaking Locks **

The break of morning came swift in Riften. I woke up from a heavy sleep, stretching my limbs swathed in fatigue. A few bruises and red swells greeted my skin, but I would have wanted to think that beauty was the last priority on my list. I walked to the window to see the view outside. The morning mist loomed over the city of Riften. The mountains in the distance were barely visible in the veil, and thin white clouds seeped through the canals and climbed up the wooden walks. In front of the Bee and the Barb stood the marketplace, the center of the city. Spires of smoke rose from little stalls, some early shoppers came and chatted with the mrchants, the beggars made their rounds hoping to earn a septim or two, the blacksmith in the far corner was busy hammering at his new, molten bar of steel.

There was a wardrobe next to my bed. I opened it and found some other clothes inside. I looked around for a second, and seeing that no one was in the area, I stole the deep green garments and wore them. I tossed my old, burnt clothes under the bottom of the bed. Taking the apothecary sac, I hopped down the stairs, hoping that no one would take notice of my change of attire. Breakfast at the inn was decent enough—the smell of freshly baked bread and grilled chicken swamped the area. Footsteps rang hollow across the thick, log flooring; a sound that made one nervous if ever the whole inn were to collapse into the lake. Keerava the Inn Keeper was sweet with the Argonian sweeper at the back of the counter. I slipped out of the other door unnoticed. That exit led me to the entrance of the city, to the gate of the fraudulent guards. The large log mansions sprawled across the lane, their grass hedges to a height almost towering an Altmer.

My first job of that day was to deliver the package to the Black-Briar family. "Where is the Black-Briar estate?" I asked a passing guard. The guard stopped for a moment, looked around, and then pointed to one of the largest homes on that street. Their large, stone home was twice as large as the inn, its mezzanine poking out into the road.

"Stay out of trouble, Imperial," was the guard's last warning before walking of into the marketplace.

I stood in front of the door and knocked. At first there was no reply, so I knocked again, and this time, louder in hopes of someone to hear me. I heard a few shouts from inside the house, and a fusillade of muffled footsteps, and some _thuds_, and then the doorknob turned. The door creaked open, to reveal the woman who answered the door. She was a middle-aged woman, tall and immensely-snarky looking. Her eyes were sharper than glass blades, her skin as pale as ivory and her hair as black as a raven. "Yes?" she said, looking at me from the tip of her nose.

"May I talk to the master of this estate?" I asked her politely.

"You have her," replied the snarky woman. "I am Maven Black-Briar. Now what is it, you fool? Unless you have official business with us, then you have no place here."

My eyebrows knit. "This is a delivery from Lucan Valerius from the Riverwood Trader. He asked me to deliver it to your daughter," I said, showing her the sac. I lifted it up for the woman to take it, but she just stared down at it disgustingly like it was some sort of cheap trick.

"Obviously you don't know who I am," she commented, lifting her dark eyes. She swung the door open. "Bring it in to the foyer, and leave immediately."

I entered the house. The presence of Maven made the air around her shake. The Black-Briar estate was beautiful inside. The walls were adorned in taxidermy, and steel plates, and the glow from the brazen chandeliers made the home even more fantastical. I dropped the sac by a gate-leg table, taking a good look around the estate. "Your place is amazing, my lady," I told her.

"Yes, it is quite the home," she replied, smiling wryly. She pointed at the door. "Now leave at once before any thieves decide to sweep through the house. Here's some gold for your efforts." And she passed me a coin purse. I rummaged through it on my way out.

"Seven hundred gold pieces, my lady?" I asked, overwhelmed. "This is more than a reward. Thank you."

"Nothing less than a Black-Briar would give you," replied Maven, pokerfaced. "And you'll be smart to remember our name. We are one of the most influential families in Skyrim. Get on our bad side, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life." And she shut the door tightly.

I nodded my head, smiling. This money was good enough to last me for weeks. Money. And that was when I recalled the next task at hand.

The sight of the Nord thief by the entrance of the marketplace made my emotions turn around. That momentary happiness turned into a blazing passion, both of fear and excitement. He was at his own stall, selling spiced wines. Still donned in his fine clothing, he was calling out. "Fresh wines, fresh from Windhelm! Get a taste of your fresh wine!" At the sight of me, his was quieted.

"I'm here," I told him, grimacing.

"Good. I knew you would come," he said in a soft, low voice, his thick accent rubbing beneath his words. "Now this is what you have to do. See that Argonian over there in that stall across the weapons shop? His name's Madesi. Now I'm going to create a distraction and you'll steal Madesi's ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to put it in the Dunmer, Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."

"Why place the ring with Brand-Shei?" I asked him.

"There's someone who wants to see him put out of business, permanently. That's all you need to know," he replied, in a voice below the sound of the busy marketplace. His eyes panned the marketplace, and then he turned back to me, leaning in. "Now are you ready to make some coin, lass?"

I nodded my head.

"Good. Now wait until I've started a distraction, and then show me what you're made of." And then he set out. I watched as he stepped into the middle of the marketplace and proclaimed. "Everyone! Everyone! Gather around! I have something amazing I want to show you!" All people turned their heads, even the guards, and started to walk towards the redheaded Nord.

This was my time. I raced towards Madesi's stall, ducking once I had reached the place. I looked around to see if anyone was in sight, and realizing that the thief had drawn everyone's attention, I slid the cabinet under the stall open. And there it was, Madesi's strongbox. Pulling out a lockpick from my pocket, I stuck it inside the lock, rotating it around for good measure. My hands were trembling as I slowly twisted the pick, the lock turning with it. Slowly…and slowly yet it was beginning to move. Then, the lock clicked and the strongbox lid swung open. "Yes," I snickered.

I thought I had it, until I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head. "Halt right there, sneak thief!" cried a voice. My heart stopped in its place. I blinked painfully, and gulped. I was caught. "Now stand up, that's right. With your hands in the air."

I exhaled sharply, slowly getting up, with my hands raised. I watched as all heads now turned to me. I saw the faces of frightened ladies, and the mad Argonian Madesi, and the confused look of the dark elf Brand-Shei. I gritted my teeth as I watch the face of the Nord thief turn from joyful to disappointed. I closed my eyes, feeling the embarrassment swell beneath my chest.

"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people," the guard said, forcing me around. His sword was drawn. "What say you in your peace?"

I looked to the thief, my heart pounding. "Fine, take me jail. I'll pay off my bounty."

"Smart woman. Now follow me. We'll just take you to the barracks and retrieve all the items you stole. That is, after you pay your bounty." And I walked with the guard, farther and farther away from the marketplace. I had lost my one and only chance to

get in touch with the Thieves Guild, one more shot at revenge.

The process didn't take too long. I was escorted back to the front of the jail after the guards emptied my pockets. They made me sign some papers and they sternly warned me never to engage in attempt again. They even threatened to throw me into the cell the next time they'd see me do it for the second time. That part never really mattered to me. What had mattered was whether I would see the Nord thief again. He would have probably receded back into the darkness, lost forever in sight. I avoided the marketplace, keeping my eyes low from people's passing glares. I circled around the perimeter, back to the stall where the thief leader was. He was still in his stall calling around passers-by, but his tone was dry and uninviting.

"I'm sorry…" I said softly, my voice quivering. "I tried."

"Nah, don't worry too much about that, lass," the Nord thief said shaking his head. "Guess I should've picked a better person to do the job."

My heart sunk at his words.

"But!" he suddenly added. "You know what. You've got the makings of one of us. Why, you're just like one of those newly forged blades. All we gotta do is sharpen you up and you'll be just as good as the rest. There's more where that came from, lass…if you have the stomach for it."

"I can handle it," I cut in.

"I like that determination," the thief told me. "Fine, let's put that to the test. The group I represent has its home in the Ratway, in a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece, and we'll see if you have what it takes."

"Alright." And his figure walked away, down to the lower levels of the city, swallowed up by the shadows underneath.

I went back into the Bee and the Barb. The inn was bustling with travelers who came in for lunch. I crossed quietly to one of the tables and sat there. A waitress came over with a tray of tankards in her hand, and asked me if I wanted a special brew. I got the White-Gold Concordat drink, a liquor that had so reminded me of my home. Riften was no home, it was a sewer, filled with people who smelled as foul as the canals beneath them. And I was beginning to think it was a bad decision coming to the city, but then I thought again of my father. And my mother, whom he killed in cold blood.

"Can you tell me about The Ratway?" I asked the waitress as she was about to leave.

Her eyes widened. "No one dares stray into the Ratway," she replied. "It's a vast labyrinth of tunnels underneath the city. Bandits and thieves make their homes there. You could get lost there, traveling circles for days, weeks, even. Unless you know the place, you could end up dying in there."

"Then who can take me down to the Ragged Flagon?" My eyes suddenly took hold of a certain someone sitting at a bench by the entrance of the tavern. It was that drunk mage! Surprisingly he was still drinking. I stood up and approached him as he busied himself savoring the taste of his liquor. The alcohol had made me bold. "You. You there."

The Imperial man lifted his eyes. He lowered his tankard, smiling cheekily. "Well, well. What brings you here, Little Miss Imperial? Care for some wine? Jalen-Tei's got this fresh brew from Black Marsh. It just came in this morning."

"I'm not here for that," I snapped. "I want to know the way to the Ragged Flagon."

"The Ragged Flaggon?" he was just as surprised as the waitress. "Why would you want to go to a horrible place like that? It reeks of skeever and pickpocketing scoundrels."

Irritated at him, I took out my bag of coins and waved it at his face. "Let me repeat myself, mage. I want to know the way to the Ragged Flagon. Do you know how to get there, or not?"

The Imperial man was spellbound. His eyes were fixated on the pouch. The sound of chiming septims seemed to entice him. "Well, hmm…now it's starting to come back to me. Yes!" he exclaimed. "I've been there once before, on an errand with an acquaintance of mine, Sapphire. I do suppose I could remember the rest of the way, if I had some coin."

"How much are you charging?" I asked him, knitting my brows.

"500 gold pieces," he said smugly. He folded his arms, looking up at me with a hint of mischief in eyes. "With a master of magic at your side, you'll have nothing to fear."

I clenched my fist. Having no other choice, I grumbled. "Fine." And I was so happy to have gotten the money from Maven Black-Briar. "You can have your money. But you have to bring me to the Ragged Flagon."

"Great!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. Cockily, he stretched and flexed his shoulders, and then exercised his legs. The mage raised his cupped hands. Streaks of static surged around his hands. A destruction mage, and a proud one at that. "It's been a pretty long time since I've done any real jobs. Can't say I'm excited to do this one, but at least I have a woman at my side. What's your name, again?"

I sighed. "Solir."

"Alright," he laughed. "Name's Marcurio. An apprentice mage, and not a pack mule."


	10. The Ragged Flagon

**Chapter 10: The Ragged Flagon**

"You sure about this?" asked Marcurio, as he took one step into the tunnel entrance.

"I'm positive," I replied, knitting my brows.

The mage sighed, shrugging. "Oh very well! Come on, let's get you inside the tavern," he said, reaching out for the handle of the heavy wooden door. The way to the Ragged Flagon was opened by Marcurio. Inside of the tunnel was dark, and some ghastly stench had crept its way out of the black and into our noses. "Ladies first."

Unimpressed by his bravado, I entered without looking at him. I still felt quite unsafe with him around me after I had felt him rake his eyes down my body last night. But I supposed he couldn't help it since he was under the influence of alcohol. I still had my sword, my last bit of security, so if he had ever decided that he had wanted to take advantage of me, all I needed to do was stick the pointy end of my blade through his gut.

The tunnel continued on for quite some time. The walls around us were damp and reeked with a scent of feces. The ceiling was low, and the only lights that guided us were of torches positioned about a quarter of a mile apart. I took one torch off its rack and used it as a light. I shone it around the area to expand our field of view. "I'd rather be sitting next to a hearth than living in a shithole like this…" Marcurio commented as he pinched his nose.

I rolled my eyes. Irritated, I glared back at him and said. "You know, if you want to turn around and go back to the inn, it would be completely fine with me. But you're the only one who knows the Ratway. So please, stop complaining. It's already hard enough as it is."

"Alright, alright," the man said haughtily. "But tell me, Solir, why do you need to get involved with these thieves anyway? I mean, honest pay for honest work. These people aren't exactly shining examples. The whole city guard's out searching for them."

"Do you really want to know why?" I told him.

I did not hear him reply, but I assumed he nodded.

"If we get to the Ragged Flagon, then I'll tell you."

The pathway forked as we reached the end of the tunnel. The tunnels in both directions were dark and equally suspicious. I could hear water dripping to my side, and the crackling sound of a dying fire pit in the other. I beamed my torch towards the mage. "Where do we go from here?" I asked him.

Marcurio scratched his chin. "Well, last time I went here…hmm…well…I think we go right," he said. After some time of silent remembering, he pointed to the right tunnel, smiling. "Yes. I'm definitely sure we go right."

So we followed the right path. After walking for fifteen minutes or so through smelly passageways and impenetrable darkness, we found ourselves face to face to face with a dead end. The path we were taking was abruptly broken when we found ourselves at the rim of a hole in a wall. The makeshift bridge that we had needed to cross was drawn at the other side. "Last time I came here it was put down," Marcurio confessed, laughing nervously.

We had entered the main sluice area, a multileveled chamber that connected all tunnels and waterways. All of the water that ran from Riften homes and establishments were channeled here. The large canal was rushing beneath us, giving out a tumultuous rumble. "So how are we going to cross, then?" I asked, looking at the mage. "Wait, look over there. I think there's someone!"

There was a silhouette of some man through the cracks between the floor beams. The opaque figure drew closer. I could see him hunching his back and peeping through the spaces. Bright candlelight danced behind him, veiling the walls in a burnished gold color. "He can help us," I whispered behind me. Then I faced the bridge and shouted. "Excuse me! Over here!" I raised my shield arm into the air to get the figure's attention.

"Are you _crazy_?" Marcurio called out, as he grabbed my wrist. He yanked me and I fumbled backwards, just before an arrow zoomed past my forehead, nicking a portion of my hair and slicing it off. Sparks shot out of Marcurio's hands, and hit the man right across the chest. The figure lit up as streaks of electric violet jumped across the body. The person shook horribly before collapsing to the wall. His body hit the lever mounted on the stone, and as his body slumped down it weighed the device down. The drawbridge slammed down, sawdust flying everywhere.

I looked at Marcurio, breathless. I was still on the ground, my legs sprawled apart. The mage shook his head and sighed. He reached out his hand and I took it, and he slowly picked me up. "You're pretty dumb, for a woman," he commented as I started brushing the dirt off my clothes.

"Thank you," I said sarcastically.

"You're not in Cyrodiil anymore, Solir. You shouldn't trust anyone here. Especially people who live in shitholes. All of them are desperate men. That's why you need a companion like me," he said, crossing on to the bridge to check if it was safe. "Like I said: with a master of magic at your side, you'll have nothing to fear!"

I sensed some contradiction in the way he talked.

We continued on through the tunnel. At the end of it was a large, wooden door. I pushed it open, and through it was a large, underground chamber. The place had a domed ceiling made from the stone, and bridged walkways around the circumference that let water pass under it. The water gushed under the walks, flowing down into some hole as it reached the center of the lair. It was dark and damp and cold—so uninviting that Marcurio commented. "You know what I miss right now? Fresh air."There was one bit of the chamber that was lit. In the far corner was some sort of gathering area. The glow of the candelabras illuminated the wet walls, the wooden tables and chairs, the high stack of crates enclosed in some sort of pen.

"This is the Ragged Flagon," I supposed. I looked back at the mage, who agreed with a quick nod. I looked back at Marcurio and told him. "I need you to wait here."

"Okay," he replied. "But don't let me wait for too long. I get bored very easily."

I sighed, but waved off his annoying comment as soon as I started walking away. I could see some hooded men in dark, leather armor gathering around what seemed to be a counter. I edged closer to the group, following the curved path round the den. These people were talking in hushed voices, but the silence was so impeccable that every word could be made out

"We're a dying breed, Brynjolf…" said one voice, low and husky.

"A dying breed, eh?" replied another voice, this time, familiar. It was Brynjolf's voice. "Then what do you call _that_?" Suddenly, all of the hooded heads slowly turned to me. The whole lair was pin-drop silent. My heart started to race. My breathing became loud and fast. What were they going to do? Were they going to murder me for intruding on their conversation?

With determination, straightened my back and lifted my shoulders to seem a bit stronger and larger. "I'm here," I addressed all the hooded figures. These were surely the members of the Thieves Guild. They donned the same outfits as the foes that attacked our caravan on the way to Elinhir. "You wanted to test my zeal. You asked me to come, thief master. I did what you wanted me to do."Still confused on which hooded figure was the thief leader, I looked at the spaces in between them.

"Well, well, color me impressed!"exclaimed the center hooded figure. He removed his hood, and the bright red hair showed. It was the man at the marketplace. The thief folded his arms smiling. "I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again."

"Getting here was easy," I said confidently.

"Reliable and headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize," he replied smugly. "I am Brynjolf, second in command here in our reliable institution. Welcome to the Ragged Flagon, lass."

There were some grunts and sighs from the group of hooded thieves. I could see scowls and frowns painted on the bottom parts of their faces. Their eyes were shadowed in the dim light, though I could already see their repulse for me. "_This _is your new recruit? Damn it, Brynjolf, you can't just pick people out of the streets!" one of them suddenly rose up. I turned towards the voice—a woman's voice. Another member removed her hood. Under that cover was a woman, probably about the same age as I. She had ivory skin and light blonde hair, and eyes like steel. "Seriously, one strong blast of air could blow this one away!"

"Vex, let him speak!" spat out another one who decided to reveal himself as Vipir the Fleet. He turned to me and said. "We've heard about your story, girl. Brynjolf's told us all about you, that you just may be the one to bring the Thieves Guild back to its former state."

"Me?" I said, stammering. I hesitate for a while and looked at their faces. "I suppose so…"

"Don't fool the girl, Vipir! She's not yet part of the guild," said another hooded figure. Upon closer inspection, I realized that he was a Bosmer. The elf man had wide and up-turned orange eyes. "But, Brynjolf knows what he is doing. If he says that this woman can help us, then we shall see."

The discussion turned into an argument. The air was thicker with tension each passing second.

"So, this is our real face, lass," said Brynjolf, his face turning very serious. "We are the members of the Thieves Guild here in Skyrim, and this is our headquarters, a tavern down in the Ratway. Now I see you've got the guts—and just like I promise there will be more of that excitement you experienced a while back. You say you want to be part of our little group. You have our attention, lass, but you'll need more than that. You have to prove what you claim to be. Now, there are some people that need a little—"

Brynjolf's sentence was cut off when another figure joined the group. This man wasn't hooded, but he donned a very intricate leather suit. The material was black, thick and had a strange texture that it appeared somewhat velvety when light struck it at some angle. Across his chest hung a sling of pockets and a gold brooch with the insignia of the Thieves Guild on it. In his hand was a closed book, its paged marked with a pheasant feather. The thieves became quieted. The black-leathered man had the air of a king; as he walked into the light, the whole world seemed to slow down.

"This noise is unbearable. Can't you leave a man to study in peace?" he said, in a displeased, nasal tone. He looked at each and every member; his glare could turn a man to stone. "I suppose you have an explanation for this, Brynjolf, hmm? Vex has been telling me you've been fishing for new recruits. Well, is this the one?" He hadn't laid even his eyes on me, but he already knew where I was standing. I could see his dark pupils face me from the side of his eyes.

"This is the one, Mercer," Brynjolf said eagerly. "I tested her skills during the Madesi incident."

"Well, was she successful in planting the ring in Brand-Shei's pocket?"

"Well…" Brynjolf's voice suddenly softened. "No."

"Then, how can she brand herself a thief when she can't even do a simple job," Mercer said, as he walked towards me. Placing his book abreast, he bent closer to examine me. I tried my best to look him in the eye, but he was just so intimidating. The air around him seemed to shudder in fear. "Who are you, girl? What's your business with the Thieves Guild?"

"I am Solir Ezelino," I told him, shaking. "I've come here because I've got what it takes to be a member of the guild."

Mercer pouted. "What did Brynjolf promise you then? Did he tell you this fantasy about getting richer than you ever imagined? Did he force you against your will? It's not every day that I see a person, much less a woman, seek out the guild by herself. You've intrigued me. I overheard my dearest partner here about your little _initiation_ to the club. You want a mission? I'll give you a mission."

My eyes lit up a bit. I remained silent, and my eyes followed the man in black as he turned to Brynjolf and said. "Brynjolf, give her guild uniform. She's to be sent to Goldenglow Estate."

There were some gasps from behind. It caused a stir within the group. Even Brynjolf himself seemed shock at his partner's decision. "Master, that's impossible," said the red-headed Nord. "Vex herself couldn't do the mission—she barely escaped out of the island alive. That place is guarded with brainwashed brutes, not to mention that pesky elf Aringoth has jailed himself inside his own home."

"You heard me, Brynjolf. Now that's a test of _real_ stealth. Only the best of the best can rise above the challenge. The best of the best is what we need right now if we want the Thieves Guild to be feared again," Mercer said, opening his book to the page marked. His slim fingers ran down the page. "Now, if you don't mind me, I'll be getting back to my desk." And before anyone could object he had started heading for the back door.

"You heard the man, send her to Goldenglow!" one of the members called out.

"Yeah, Brynjolf!" Vex joined in with a cocky smile slapped upon her lips. "And if she gets back in one piece…drinks for everyone! On me!"

I looked at them, infuriated. I clenched my fist. "I'll do it!" I exclaimed, pointing my finger at the white woman. She was the one who made me feel most angry. I turned to Brynjolf. "Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it." I had to prove myself.

The Nord sighed. "The die has been cast, lass. I wouldn't have you do it, but our leader's command is always followed. Mercer Frey wants you to infiltrate Goldenglow Estate. I'll give you the rest of the details later. Right now, we have to get you geared up." And he walked me to the back door. The travel through that five meter stretch seemed to be the longest walk ever. There were echoes of laughter and cusses that trailed behind us.

"I bet a hundred gold that she's not going to last for a minute once she steps foot on Goldenglow!" And there were also the sounds of coins chiming.


	11. Goldenglow Estate

**Chapter 11: Goldenglow Estate**

"How's the armor, lass?" asked Brynjolf.

"This is really study leather. Made from cow hide, I believe," I replied, impressed by the quality of the Thieve's Guild armor. It was thick, yet very light and was a shade of burnt umber. There were pauldrons mounted on the shoulders and two pocket slings that crisscrossed the torso. The outfit was battle-tested, though. There were marks of slashes and chipping off leather. "Who did this belong to?"

"The last person who tried to join the Thieves' Guild." Brynjolf's face was slightly pale. "You better be careful there, Solir. Vex, whose an expert at sneaking, barely got out of there alive. The place is swarming with mindless mercenaries. The best bet you have of staying alive is to talk to her about the secret entrance. That way you won't have to get in the front gate. You remember the plan, yeah?"

"All I have to do is find this Aringoth and burn his bee hives. That'll send him a message that Maven Black-Briar means business."

"Right," the Nord nodded. "You have your sword?"

"Yes."

"And you know some magicka?"

"A bit." But I would not have a problem with that. I saw a spark in Brynjolf's eye. I could not help but ask. "Why are you doing this? I mean, why do you trust me all of a sudden with your Thieves' Guild armor and your sword? And you're the only one that seems to be doing this. Is there a catch?"

At first, Brynjolf looked at me blankly, trying to absorb what I had said. Then, after a few moments he broke out into laughter. I hung my head, confused. "I'm doing this," the man replied, once he had regained his sanity. "Because no one else will. Not a damn person is trying to get the guild back to its former glory. It's only a shadow of itself now. Of course, there's Mercer. But honestly, do you see anyone figuring out the next great heist? No! We're reduced to a couple of lowly pickpockets and robbers. If you make it out, lass—if you make the presence of the Thieves Guild known, then maybe…just maybe…the people in here will start acting like they're supposed to."

I walked back out into the tavern, thinking well about what Brynjolf had told me. I was moved by his words. I realized that his intention was far more different that mine. What was I doing? Taking revenge on my father. What was he doing? Trying to return the guild to its golden days. Would my motive drive me to do all the absurdities that this place had to offer?

Just then, someone approached me from behind. I turned around, only to meet Vex in all her irritability. She stood there, staring at me, her lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted tightly. "Look here," she said sternly. "I don't know what game you're playing."

"Excuse me?" I said, confused and angry at the same time.

"I said," Vex repeated. "What game are you playing? You think this is some kind of joke? You think if you lose daddy's gonna come running to save your ass? This is the real world, kid. If I couldn't do it, then neither can you. What the hell makes you think you can just waltz out of this place with _our_ armor on and call yourself one of us?"

I opened my mouth, ready to curse out the whole Tamriel when Mercer came in and intervened. "Vex, that's enough."

It only took a few words for that girl to shut her mouth. A bright shade of pink pushed up her milk white face—she was completely outraged. "Sorry, Mercer…" she managed to choke out. I could her fingers clawing into her skin. Mercer wagged his brows at Vex, signaling something to her. She groaned, rolling her eyes. "Alright, fine. I'll tell you something about Goldenglow. There's a secret tunnel that winds under Lake Honrich. It'll lead you up to the basement of Aringoth's estate. It's easy to break in, but there are a lot of brutes in the house. I couldn't break past the foyer. Aringoth has a safe located in his bedroom. Find him, and beat him up until he tells you where it is. When that's done, you can burn the bee hives."

I nodded. I turned around and started walking away.

"Geez, Vex, don't you think that was a bit rough?" I heard another voice say.

"Whatever." It was Vex's voice. Her footsteps soon faded into the distance.

* * *

"Hey, psst!" I hissed. "Psst! Marcurio!"

Marcurio was leaning against a pillar by the side of the tavern. He looked immensely bored, and was staring at his nails. When he finally heard me, he looked towards me and his face lit up. "Oh, thank the divines! I was beginning to think you were killed in there or something. Good thing. Hey, that's some pretty swanky armor you got there. Did those thieves steal it from someone?"

I almost laughed. "Come on, we're heading off. Follow me."

"Alright," he said, pushing himself off the wall. "I got your back."

We entered through the cellar and into the tunnel that Vex told me about. It looked exactly the same as the thousands of other tunnels that the mage and I traversed through to get to the Ragged Flagon. This time, it was very dim, and walls were dowsed in gossamer. There was some kind of liquid that trailed the path. "Careful with those things. It's oil, and you wouldn't want to start a fire down here. The whole place could come crashing down."

"Hard for you to do," I commented, smirking. "You're an apprentice wizard."

"Even wizards have to control themselves sometimes you know!" Marcurio said proudly, putting his hands akimbo. His face turned from cocky to curious. "Hey, you know, Solir, you still have to honor that promise you made to me a while back."

"A promise?"

"Yes, you still have to tell me why you wanna join these thieves."

"Oh, right…" my shoulders sunk slightly. "I forgot about that."

"C'mon," Marcurio said, nudging my back. I jumped forward in disgust.

"Alright, alright. Just don't touch me again," I said, shuddering. "The reason why I want to join the guild…is because I need to avenge my mother…" And I looked to Marcurio, hoping that I had answered his question. But his eyes were still wide with wonder; I knew he had expected more. I carried on.

"We were in Cyrodiil. A large amount of money came in through our door—and my father, he used it…_all_ for his gambling. Aside from being a great blacksmith, he too was a great gambler. He was a lucky one: his hands drew in more and more gold. The money—it made him sick in the mind. He sooner forgot about his work: he didn't show up at the smithy anymore, and he came home every night smelling like hard liquor. My mother tried to stop him, but he…" I couldn't say it. It was as if someone had suddenly stuck an orange down my throat.

Marcurio put a finger up to his lips. "Shh. It's alright. I get it. Evil father, and now you're here in Skyrim trying to start a new life, huh?" He exhaled slowly. "The world gets more and more poisoned each day. Even here, the average man can't escape the greed of fellow man. People all the way down in Falkreath feel the blows of the Stormcloaks and Imperials."

"So now you know my story," I breathed.

"Yeahp, and just in time. We're here." Marcurio pointed ahead of us.

There was a heavy wooden door at the end of the tunnel.

"We must be under the estate, then," I told him. "Let's do this."

The oil had run dry in this place, so Marcurio was able to illuminate the place with some of his fire. I bent down to the doorknob and pulled a pick out of my pocket (there were at least twenty pieces inside of it). I stuck the thin metal strand into the door, and twisted it around to find the right angle. Slowly, I twisted the knob, and turned…and turned…and turned even more. My heart was beating loudly in my head. Then, it clicked. The door opened a bit, revealing some parts of Aringoth's basement.

I went into the house first. The floorboard were softly creaking under our feet, so we had to be wary where we placed our next step. The house was old and dusty, probably in par with the tunnel we had entered. The walls were undecorated, and smelled of dead animal. I could hear some voices behind a wall. We turned the corner and then stopped at the sudden sound of footfall. Marcurio went in front of me and peered into a hallway. Shadows danced through a hallway, and the sound of drunken voices hackneyed tunes echoed. "Let's go," he whispered, pointing his head.

"_Ah! There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came running to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!_" Their songs sounded worse a broken lute.

"We can sneak pass them, it'll be easier than taking them on," I told Marcurio. The door that lead to the room with men was half-open. If we had gotten across it silently, they would not notice a thing. Everything was made even easier, since they were enjoying rounds of rum. The Imperial seemed to agree with me. We took our steps, slowly and silently, passing through the shadows. While sneaking pass the door I glimpsed inside the room. There were three large men, their biceps practically ready to pop out of their tight-fit sleeves. I saw a few war-hammers rested on a wall, and goat cheese wheels piled up on a cabinet mounted in the far back. Marcurio snapped me out of the intrigue. We continued up the stairs unnoticed.

Now we were at the ground floor. A small window beamed some moonlight onto the bannister. We hurried up and slid into a broom closet. Marcurio lit his hand-fire again. Inside the closet were stocks of potions, and I stole them without hesitation. "If you were a wizard like me, you wouldn't need all those alchemy trash," he commented, smirking. After seeing my unpleased face, he stopped. "Anyway, this should be the ground floor. One more floor up and we should be in Aringoth's quarters. That's what we're aiming for, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. But there's supposed to be a lot of mercenaries around here. I don't see why Vex had such a hard time. We only encountered three, and all of them were drunk men. _Shh_!" We were suddenly shaken by the sound of soft growling behind the door. A long, dark shadow casted itself through the crack under the closet.

"What the hell is that?" Marcurio hissed. Quickly, he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back against the closet wall. Facing the entrance, he fired up his hands, ready to strike. He glanced back at me and said. "I'll block you. Stay back, you might get burnt."

Before he could satisfy his battle lust, the opaque figure moved away.

"Damn. I almost had him," he laughed softly.

"Are you crazy? This whole house is going to catch fire!" My nostrils flared.

There was complete silence outside. Marucrio twisted the doorknob slowly and peered out into the empty landing. "Looks like no one's there. Come one, let's go. I'll take point. You watch my back."

Excuse me, but wasn't I on the mission here? Whatever. At least this mage had the guts and some initiative to take the bullet for me. I followed Marcurio out of the broom closet and into the foyer of the house. There was a quaint living room set with seats and side tables that had gathered a thick layer of dust. Little white wisps danced around the air. I kept on looking back to check if anyone had followed us. Marcurio continued to advance into what seemed to be a kitchen. There were some chopped vegetables on the counter, and a little kettle boiling atop a fire stint. "We should get out of here, someone's been working in this place. He might return," I said.

"I swear, I think I saw a stairway here," Marcurio looked back.

There were some footfalls fast approaching. My eyes widened. "Marcurio!" I hissed.

"I found it! Here's! There's a way upstairs in here!" The mage paid no attention whatsoever to what I had said. He went around the stone counter and approached a door next to the pantry. He tried opening the door, but the wretched thing would not budge. "Nevermind. It's not ope—"

"Ah!" A deep voice cried from behind us. My follower and I turned around, to see a frightened man. He was donned in a cook's uniform, holding a chopping board. Chopped carrots rolled across the floor. The board followed after with a loud _thud_.

"Not so fast!" Marcurio sprung into action. Lightning bolts escaped out of his fingers and struck the cook. The man fought back the current, drawing a butcher's knife from his side. He swung went against the sea of sparks, managing to swing his blade at the magic master. The knife nicked Marcurio's ponytail, chopping off a bit of his hair. Infuriated, he cried out. "No one touches the hair!"

I drew out my sword, gripped it tightly and lunged at the foe. I swung my blade and managed to hit the cook in the gut. The cook's eyes shot open in shock, and he choked out a dying laugh. The white sparks ran around his body, causing him to convulse. I drew the sword out from his gut, and his white apron turned red. The man fell to the floor, still epileptic.

"You know what they say, Solir," Marcurio jested, rubbing his hands together. "The closest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Your blade just made things easier."

"Let's get out of this place. Back to the landing!" I ordered. We hustled back into the main entrance and looked around for a staircase. "Over here! Come, I found it!" There was a stairwell leading up to the second floor. Marcurio took his place in front of me once again and lead me up the steps.

"That looks like Aringoth's room," the mage said. He pointed to the largest door. There was a bulky Nord mercenary standing watch by the entrance. The man looked back at me. "Well, what do we do now? Give me your orders."

I thought for a while. Then an idea popped into my head. I took out my bow that hung from my back. Brynjolf had given me this one. "Create a distraction. When he's not looking, I'll put an arrow through his chest."

The mage obliged gladly. He ran up a couple of more steps, still hidden from sight. Then, he placed his hands together. A bright, ball of light started to form in his hands. The orb grew bigger and bigger, until it was the size of a cheese wheel. Marcurio lifted up his hands and thrust the ball of light at the guard. The Nord brute was dazzled by the magical display; he was in a state of illusion. He raised his hands into the air, trying to touch the mage light. He started to wave his hands uncontrollably. While his attention was caught, I quickly drew an arrow from my quiver, aimed, and shot it at the man. The arrow ripped to the air and hit the man through the shoulder. The Nord fumbled backward and landed soundly. He died with his eyes crossed and his arms suspended in the air.

"_Garreth_?" There was an elderly voice from inside the room.

"Aringoth," Marcurio and I said in unison.

We looked at each other, and then nodded. I placed on my hood, and then kicked through the bedroom door. The doors swung open. Inside the large bedroom was Aringoth, an elderly altmer with silver hair. His face was well defined with wrinkles. He was tall, and was dressed in expensive clothing. The old elf was shocked to see us. He shielded his face with his hands and fell to his knees. "Please! Please! Don't kill me!" Aringoth begged.

I approached him and slowly pointed my sword to his face. "Aringoth, you've been quiet for some time," I told him. "The Guild wants to know what's been keeping you quiet. Maven hasn't been receiving supply of honey lately. Wouldn't it be a shame if something happened to your precious bee hives?" Yes. I said the speech well.

The old altmer, with his hands still shielding his face, started to laugh. It was a laugh that sounded like a dying dwemer contraption. He stood up slowly, one foot at a time, and placed his hands down. His face was twisted with menacing grin. "Maven hasn't been receiving the honey, because it no longer belongs to her…ha! Ha! Ha!" From inside his thick fur cloak, he drew out a long sword. His free hand began to birth flames.

"What?" I said, confused.

"That's right!" the elf exclaimed. Aringoth straightened his back. His aura turned from a beggar to a king. In a loud voice, he called out. "Men! Enter!" Twelve men entered the large room. I recognized the three drunk men (they entered last), and nine others who seemed sober. They were all holding large, two-handed weapons. When we thought that the brutes were the only problem, in prowled a great sabre-tooth cat. The beast roared loudly, baring his sharp teeth at us.

"I hate cats," Marcurio commented, shaking his head, appalled.

We had fallen right into a trap.


	12. The Next Step

**Chapter 12: The Next Step**

"So, the Thieves Guild sent you here, eh?" Aringoth asked, wagging his sword at us. "Those criminals don't have anything better to do? They came to send a well-armed killer to terrify an old elf out of his wits! Well, you heard me right, you fool. The Honey doesn't flow back to Maven's hands because we're not connected with the Black-Briar meadery anymore. Someone purchased the estate a couple of nights back. You should be leaving, little thief, while you still can. And tell your leader this: the time's come when we don't play by Maven's rules."

I looked around me. The mercenaries were gaining ranks. They were slowly advancing towards us. There were too many of them. We were outnumbered six to one. Marcurio looked around, gritting his teeth. The fire danced atop his fingertips, and he tried his best to hold his temper when some of the brutes started to taunt him. It took a moment for all of it to sink in. Then, I thought of Vex's words. _You think if you lose, daddy's gonna come running to save your ass?_ She was wrong. Daddy won't come to save me at all. I had to be my own savior.

I looked to Marcurio. His shot me a desperate look. "C'mon, Solir. Give me the signal!" the mage exclaimed impatiently, gnashing his teeth together. The fire in his hands began to bloom. I could see he was itching for a good fight.

"Do it."

_BOOM!_

Suddenly, here was a brilliant explosion of light. The whole house shook, the chandeliers on the ceiling began to sway around. Fire licked the floors and walls. The mercenaries fell back, some running towards the exit. Marcurio laughed as one mercenary tripped and knocked down another. The big sabre cat caught fire, and began running around uncontrollably. He began to shoot fireballs out of his fingers wildly. I leapt across a line of fire, towards the elderly Aringoth, who was still holding his ground. He shot a fireball out of his hands, but I dodged it. I rolled across the floor, the sprang towards him, striking him with my sword. Before I could hit him, his blade met mine first. The steel shrieked and shivered and turned golden, reflecting the fire. The saber cat rammed itself against a wall, trying to rub out the fire on its back. The ceiling began to give way. Little debris fell from the roof and was engulfed by the flames that started to run across the bedroom. Wooden floorboards splinted and windows crack. Embers drifted around the burning hot air.

"It's time you gave up, Aringoth!" I cried, thrusting my blade forward. The old man parried backwards and counterattacked. His blade slid down my own, until it hit the hilt and knocked my weapon out of my hand. Brynjolf's sword went flying through the air and landing at the other end of the room, skidding across the floor. I dove for the sword, feeling his air shiver around me as Aringoth's long sword swung, missing me by an inch.

"Not ever!" he yelled in a voice above the crackling fire. "For many years Maven Black-Briar has abused my business! She pushes and pushes us further down the ranks, and we get barely anything in return! It's better we put our faith in Gulum-Ei! He's the only one who can save us!"

_Gulum-Ei._ I would remember that name. I grabbed my sword, rolled on my back and swiped the blade at the old elf. Aringoth's left hand came flying off. The yellow hand fell to the earth lifeless and all bloodied. Aringoth screamed helplessly. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, groaning in pain. Blood fountained out of where his hand used to be.

Marcurio was busy warding off the incoming Nord men. They tried to swing their battle-axes at the mage but he was to agile. He leapt backwards and sent sparks flying through the air. He zapped two or three mercenaries at the same time. The sabre cat, in a frenzy, attacked its own master, ripping him into pieces. Blood splattered all over the walls. After he had finished off the man, it turned towards Marcurio. The Imperial man frowned, and cracked his fingers. "Time to put you to sleep, little kitty!" he said, taunting the wild animal. The sabre cat lunged forward, its claws out like a pair of forsworn's clubs.

Meanwhile, I was busy dueling with Aringoth.

"Where is the location of your safe?" I asked him.

Aringoth was like a wounded hound, all bark but no more bite. The elf, still on the floor, pushed himself to get back up, but it had seem his frail body had failed him. He could no longer fight. Aringoth looked up at me with tears forming in his large, green eyes. He slowly lifted up his still-intact hand and pointed towards the closet beside his large bed, his fingers shaking terribly. At once I had ceased attacking him, feeling pity for the old fellow. My orders were not to kill him; only more reason for me not to do so.

I ran to the closet and hacked it open. Inside, hidden under a pile of thick capes, was Aringoth's safe. I threw the cloaks out to reveal the whole box. Then, I took out a lockpick and began picking as fast as I could. The first pick slipped through my shaking hands. A breathed a curse and popped in another one. This time, it snapped, which made me curse even louder. The fire was beginning to devour everything around us. Marcurio leapt across the flames to join me. The fire stuck to his robes, but he swat it out as if it were just a fly. "Hurry up, would you? This place is gonna come down in no time."

"I know!" I shouted angrily. "Keep the fires away for a minute."

Marcurio, with a serious face, nodded. He turned around to face the crawling fire. It ran up the walls and ate the drapery. The smolder began to grow thick and black. The fourth lockpick I had did the trick. The safe budged open. Inside were some sacks of gold, and one mysterious-looking envelope. I stashed all of them in my pockets and into a satchel, except for the parcel which I held in my hands. "Alright, let's get out of here."

The mage produced a magic force field. The call it a _ward_. He beckoned me behind him, and I followed. Marcurio raised his hands up to keep the shield working. We passed through the flames unharmed. "Wait, what about Aringoth?" I asked him, concerned.

"Ah, to hell with Aringoth! Arkay's the one who will be dealing with him now." Marcurio swerved left as a part of the doorway collapsed. "Hurry, now!" As we made our way out of the bedroom, I looked back at the altmer, who knelt there, in the midst of his burning house, stripped of all hope.

We ran down the stairs and out through the front door. We found ourselves in the middle of an island. The city of Riften was glowing in the distance. Goldenglow Estate was set ablaze; it shone bright like a beacon of a lighthouse on a dark shore. When we were by the bee hives at the far end of the island, we turned back and looked at the burning house. A few moments later and the façade of the mansion collapsed. The whole structure was sooner swallowed by the flames.

"I'll do the honors of burning down the hives," I told Marcurio, as he was about to set the row on fire. The mage placed his hands down and went behind me. I lifted my hands in the air, cupping them. Little fires started to grow in my hands. They suddenly burst into a full-fledge flame. Directing the magicka at the hives, the three ones in the middle were set ablaze. When all was done, Marcurio and I leapt into the water, as a burning Goldenglow estate crumbled behind us.

* * *

Mercer looked at me, his face filled with anger. He banged his fists on his desk. "I order you to go to Goldenglow Estate to burn down Aringoth's bee hives…and you defy my orders and end up burning down the _whole_ lot?" His voice was sharper than an edge of steel.

I blinked painfully. Some words managed to escape my quivering lips. "Y-Yes, sir, M-Mercer, sir…" I could barely look at him. Instead, I stared down at the thick book that lied on his desk. It was probably where he kept all the Guild's secrets. I swore that he would scold me unforgivably,

I closed my eyes, ready to take whatever he could dish out on me. Instead, I felt a warm hand on my back.

"Good work!" he grinned, rubbing his hands together. "I wouldn't have thought of doing that, but to burn down his entire estate…to get the attention of the Riften guard? Ha! Mjoll the Lionness would be carving her own intestines out trying to find out how the Guild was able to do that! Well, I guess that's settled then, girl. You're in the Thieves' Guild. Welcome to the club."

My heart started to flutter. I found myself smiling uncontrollably. "Thank you, Mercer, sir."

"Call me Mercer," he laughed. He regained his composure after a few moments and began scribbling away in his giant book using a peacock quill. I think that he was expecting me to leave, but I had to tell him the truth about Goldenglow.

"And…there's something else I found out."

It had seemed I had spoken out of turn. Mercer halted from his writing and raised his eyes. His inquisitive brown eyes looked at me with sheer curiosity. "Hmm…you have now? Do tell."

"The reason why Aringoth has not been sending honey supply to Maven was because he claimed that Goldenglow wasn't connected to the Black-Briar meadery anymore," I drew out the old envelope and placed it on Mercer's desk. The leader immediately put his full attention onto the piece of paper. "According to this deed of sale, the estate has now been transferred to an unknown owner. All items—every lamp and utensil inside the house—now belongs to this man, but was purchased by this person called 'Gulum-Ei'."

Mercer was not surprised. "Gulum-Ei, eh? He used to be a member of the Guild many years ago. He disappeared after the guild was…_disassembled_."

"Disassembled?"

"Ah, but you're knowing too much too soon," Mercer said, closing his big book tightly. He rested his peacock quill on the tome. A little smile crawled up his lips. "I'll tell you some of our history, Solir. Once before the Thieves' Guild was much better than it used to be today. We traveled all around the world in search of Tamriel's greatest treasures. Great artifcats…jewels hidden under dwemer ruins…But nothing gold could stay. There came a time of internal conflict within the Guild…some traitorous members placed a rift within our family. Others rebelled and left the guild altogether. Only those who were loyal remained in Riften."

I had heard enough for one night, and hoped to end it with an "I see…"

"You should get some rest for the night. We don't have any leads at the moment. Brynjolf will brief you when we get some information on Gulum-Ei's location," Mercer said, smiling warmly. Niruin came to fetch me from Mercer's work area. We walked away from the desk and the Thief Master.

The bosmer had a long, thin brown face. His up-turned orange eyes seemed to glow even in the dim light of the cistern. "So…Solir…You're Solir, right?" He asked. "My name's Niruin, if you forgot. I'm the master marksman in the Thieves Guild. If you need help in archery, you could always come to me and I could give you…hmm…some _private_ lessons."

"Heh," I laughed haughtily. "Thanks, but no thanks. I am pretty skilled in archery as well."

Niruin raised a brow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, and one handed and two handed weapons too," I bragged, feeling pretty good about myself. "I grew up surrounded by weapons. It was inevitable that I'd learn how to use them. My father was a blacksmith." At the last line, my voice grew weak.

"Well my father was a winemaker," was Niruin's comeback. He folded his arms. "So, I could beat you any day at a drinking contest if you want to. Why don't you join me back at the Flagon. Vekel the Man's got this brew called the _Skeever's Poison_; it's the hardest thing you'll ever drink in the whole Skyrim."

"Ah, I'm not much of a drinker, but thanks for the offer." The bosmer's face seemed to sink a bit. We were about to turn the corner and into the sleeping quarters when something caught my eye. I stopped walking and pointed into one of the tunnels. "What is that thing?"

There was a large, metal wall in one of the tunnels of the cistern. The wall was intricately carved and a rusty red color. "That's the Vault," Niruin told me. "That's where the Guild keeps all of our loot. I've never been in that thing, in all of my time here. The only people who are allowed to go inside are the key holders. There are three of them, they say. One of them is Mercer, for sure, but it's a mystery who the other keys are with. I bet you a thousand gold that Vex is one of 'em. And the third is probably Brynjolf."

"That's why they're so close?"

"Hmm…yeah…you're probably right. What a smart woman you are, Solir!" I knew that tone. It was the tone of false bravado. But I had to play their games. "You know, if you stick with me, you can get on the good side of Vex. We're like siblings."

"Vex? Great…" I said sarcastically. "I highly doubt she will like me back, even if I tried to befriend her."

Niruin showed me inside the sleeping quarters. It was a long room lined with wooden beds. My bed was next to the Redguard, Tonilia's and on the other side, the cistern's wall. I could hear the water dripping loudly next to me. The bosmer left me soon after, heading towards the other end of the room where the men were. They were huddled together, whispering. More whispers, and another man glimpsed at me. I sat down on the bed: it was hard, but it had a touch of softness hidden in the mattress. I lied down slowly, still in my armor. My muscles back started to burn because of fatigue. It was a long night. The day would soon come—and some time for me to rest. I closed my eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.


	13. Solitude

**Chapter 13: Solitude **

The next day, there was some stirring within the Thieves' Guild. The men had woken up early, and looked towards the cistern with all earnest knowledge. Vipir the Fleet had gone missing. "Where did he go?" They asked themselves. "He rarely leaves the tavern unless out on a mission." It was only a few hours later when he returned back to the Ragged Flagon with a hooded woman, who later revealed herself to be Maven Black-Briar. She did not dare expose herself completely. She was wrapped in a ginger-colored cloak, the hood of which covered more than half her face. A deadly silence loomed around the tavern. It was as if Arkay himself had entered the premise.

"I shall speak to the person who burnt down Goldenlow Estate," she ordered us, taking off her hood. I was far behind the clump of people. They split apart at the command of Maven, and I sooner found myself staring at her face to face. The Black-Briar woman began. "So, this is the little wench that decided to kill off my entire honey supply. I suppose my first instinct is to have you immediately ousted from the Guild, but I shall forgive you, this time. It seems to me that you burning down Goldenglow was more of a favor than a disappointment. Mr. Vipir here came to me with the truth about Aringoth. So there's someone that's trying to drive a rift between us. It would seem there's a serpent within our midsts."

The whole tavern was silent for a while. A few eyes start to shift left and right.

Mercer stepped forward. "As leader of the Guild, Maven, I promise you that there won't be problems with this...err…criminal, if I dare call that person a criminal. Rune's already got information about Gulum-Ei. This Argonian now works for the East Empire Trading Company. That means the only lead we have is on the other side of Skyrim. In Solitude."

Maven's lips curled into a wry smile. "Solitude," she echoed back. She pursed her lips. "That is a long way from here. The place is a four day ride from here. We have no choice. Well, there's only one thing that you must do then. Tell your disciple to make haste for Solitude, and teach this Gulum-Ei a lesson about messing with the Black-Briars."

"With all due respect, Maven, he would be better to us alive than dead," Mercer cut in.

"Preposterous." The woman folded her arms.

I found some courage to speak up. "Mercer's right, my lady," I told her. Maven Black-Briar faced me and furrowed her brows. A part of her wanted to drown out my words, yet another part wanted to listen to what I had to say. I continued. "Gulum-Ei probably isn't the suspect. It would be ridiculous to put his name on the deed. Why would he give himself out that easily? Someone else might be pulling the strings in the background."

Maven seemed to be contemplating. It took her a long moment for the woman to finally make up her mind. "Very well," she turned to Mercer. "If you say that keeping that lizard man alive is the only way to find out who's really behind this, I will respect that. But I'm warning you, Frey, that if you mess this up one more time, the Black Briars will not support the Thieves Guild anymore. And to you, girl, I wish you luck. You will need it."

"Thank you," I said, wondering whether or not she said it out of compassion or out of mockery.

Maven Black-Briar made her way out of the Ratway like a queen. When the door to the tavern had slammed shut, everyone caught their breath, like fish gaping out of water. The tension in the air was unbearable, but it was slowly starting to recede back into the darkness of the tunnels. Everyone's eyes turned to Mercer, who was put his hands on his waist and shook his head. "What a shame…" he said, sighing. "Well, there's nothing that we can do about this. Solir, you heard was Maven said. I need you to go to Solitude and find Gulum-Ei. Don't kill him just yet—find out whatever you can about who's done this."

"Yes, sir," I nodded.

Mercer Frey turned to the Redguard woman. "Tonilia, we need a horse."

"Yes, Mercer." Tonilia bowed lightly. She exited the room hurriedly.

The rest of the guild started to disperse slowly. Sooner it was only Brynjolf, Mercer and I. The red-headed Nord took a step forward and said. "Mercer, if you want me to, I could accompany the girl to Solitude." And that made my heart stop. I didn't need another partner, not since I hired Marcurio to do most of the work for me. If they found out that I had been getting some help from someone else, they would realize I was not the actual super rookie that the Master had suddenly come to admire.

"No, no," Mercer said, wagging his finger at Brynjolf. "You coming with her is too dangerous. Gulum-Ei knows your face, and if he sees it, he will know that the Guild's starting to get its hands on the problem. Solir must go alone. That Argonian won't see it coming—not until there's a blade in his gut and some answers in our hands. But I'm talking way too ahead of myself. We do not do killing. That is left for the Dark Brotherhood. You'll do what we do best: work in the dark."

* * *

It was finally good to get my hands back on the reins of a horse. I had begun to miss Rivett sorely when I mounted the mare Tonilia got for me. "Skyrim Horses aren't as fast as the ones in Cyrodiil or in the Alik'r, but they are of a hardy make-up and they can survive through the cold." She was rubbing the horse's head affectionately. The spotted black and white horse seemed to receive the gesture warmly. "You take care of her, now. Her name is Savihk—it means "_courage"_ where I come from."

"Thank you, Tonilia," I told her, before kicking the horse with my heels. "Hiyaa!" And the mare rode off up the hill. The Redguard woman grew farther and farther from sight. It was not long until I could see city of Riften in the distance from the top of the mount. Lake Honrich was there, a mysterious sleeping maiden. There also, in the middle of her bosom was the burnt down Goldenglow Estate. Some smoke still rose from the main house, but all that was left in the ashes was the base of a watch tower overlooking the dock of the island. The sun was starting to rise over the pink heads of clouds.

I was to meet Marcurio by the signpost on the intersection of the high road. I took some time in traveling through the forest. The beauty of nature was always a welcome sight. I traversed down the dirt road, which was lined with yellow trees. The thing that made the Rift stand out from the rest of the harsh northern regions was its trees; it reminded me of a perpetual autumn in Cyrodiil. Leaves cascaded down from the trees like plumes, and the bird song was music to my ears. It was a good break from all the talks of scandal within the Guild. For once, it was a gift to be alone.

I had made it to the intersection and found Marcurio waiting there, ever alert like a fox in pursuit of a rabbit. When the mage saw us, he approached us. He patted Savihk's head. The Imperial grinned as I beckoned him. "Get on, Marcurio." And the mage happily obliged. He hopped onto the back of the horse and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I like it this way," he admitted, with a hint of mischievousness.

"Yeah?" I asked, looking back at him. I grimaced. "Well, you better not get used to it." And with that, I struck the horse with my reins. The animal kicked it front legs high into the air. Marcurio slid back and panicked, which only caused him to grip me tightly all the more. His hold on me was pretty strong.

"Don't go too fast!" he cried out. But I ignored him purposely. Laughing evilly, I kicked the horse as hard as I could. Savihk madly dashed down the highroad, and in time, we found ourselves speeding as fast as the wind.

* * *

The ride to Solitude took three nights. By the time we had reached the hold, it was sunset. Solitude's great silhouette was standing above a bank of orange clouds. The city was built on a great, high rock, and far below it, by the water, was the warehouse of the East Empire Trading Company. We would infiltrate the warehouse by nightfall, but as of now there was still some time for preparation for the mission.

Marcurio was indeed a good ally. My presumptions of him as a cocky, egoistic pervert seemed to diminish a bit. He was very helpful, especially when it came to protecting me on the journey to Solitude. We had encountered a bit of a fete on the Whiterun plains. Little did we know we had entered bandit territory when we crossed the Whiterun border and into Hjaalmarch. A group of armed men attempted to attack us, but Marcurio leapt of the horse and attacked the bandits. Riding on Savihk, I too charged at the foes. They did not stand a chance. "We make a pretty good team." Was Marcurio's comment. All I could do was nod.

We were met by the great walls and parapets of the city. Banners bearing Solitude's insignia snapped in the cold night wind. Beyond the city was the Sea of Ghosts, a merciless body of water that extended throughout the northern region of Skyrim. Despite its location, Solitude had an amiable temperature. Marcurio told me it had rarely snowed here; a stark difference from the icy land of Winterhold. It was also comforting to see the guards had us let us slip so easily into the city, since we were Imperials. Solitude was the Empire's seat in Skyrim, and Imperials like us were not scrutinized.

The inside of the city was just as stunning as its outside. The great city boasted wide, well-maintained and well-lit streets, large houses made of the same stone as the walls of the fort. Music seemed to fill the air, and colorful streamers stretched across rooftops, as if there was some large celebration. Pass the towering archways of Castle Dour and the music and voices of the Bard's College was the Blue Palace, where the widow of High King Torryg lived. The Empire seemed to be enjoying itself in Solitude, which was quite ironic since the rest of the province was suffering from civil war. Here the people were sheltered from the truth about the rest of the world. I highly doubted whether they knew that the Empire and the Stormcloaks were fighting at all. The citizens of Solitude all looked so friendly, dressed and well-fed.

We entered the Winking Skeever, a tavern located by the gates of the city. A drunk Nord man came dashing out of the door, with a tankard filled with frothing liquor. He swayed and sung without a care in the world. Inside, the warmth of the tavern's fireplace extended to its guests. The place seemed more of a home than a tavern. There were so many Imperials sitting around the tables that it was as if I had returned to the Imperial City. They chatted in mannered voices, the women laughing with hands over their mouths. Some Khajiit were playing cards in the far corner of the eating hall, while a blonde Bard was playing her flute to the tune of "Age of Aggresion." I smiled warmly at the thought of returning to my homeland—yet I had so feared returning to my father. In time I would learn that my fear had turned into anger.

Marcurio and I sat down at a table by the window that overlooked the docks below us. Some ships were coming to the port, being guided by the beacon of the Solitude lighthouse. A waitress came over and asked us for our order. Marcurio got his favorite ale, while I had passed for liquor and asked for some water instead. I would let the mage have his drink—it was reward enough for the four days of ceaseless traveling. When the tankard finally came to our table, Marcurio's eyes lit up. "See, isn't this better, Solir?" he said, chugging down a large portion of his drink. "_Ah_…Nice and warm, like it's supposed to be. I'd rather spend my time doing this than working with a bunch of criminals."

"Tone it down, would you?" I hissed. I knew he was trying to persuade me out of the Guild.

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing softly. He took one more gulp and looked out the window. Night was beginning to fall over Solitude. "You know, you should take this time to relax. It's going to be pretty rough from here on."

My shoulder seemed to slump at his words. I took a deep breath, and leaned back against my chair. "I guess you're right…" The lines on my face started to disappear once I heard the bard sing a familiar tune. I turned my chair around and faced the lady. My eyes widened.

"_Our hero, our hero, takes a warrior's heart…I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes…"_ The bards in Solitude were very talented at singing, I gave them that. Their voices were trained, unlike the roadside singers who would ask a large amount of money, only to sing horribly. The songstress continued to sing her beautiful song.

"The Dragonborn…" Marcurio started, rubbing his tankard. "My mother always used to tell me tales…of this great hero born with a dragon soul. That he could understand the language of the dragons, and master the power of the Voice without a sweat. Man, what I would give to have those powers. I mean, it's not like my magic is useless, but wow, what things I could do if I was able to shout a man to pieces. Just like Ulfric."

His words made me think about the incident that happened with Bjorlam some time back. Could I possibly be the Dragonborn? I mean, I absorbed its soul, and yet I could not do any tricks with my voice. Perhaps I was something else. Perhaps I was meant for something else. If I was really this great hero that Skyrim wanted, then I should be out protecting the world or doing something crazy with my gift—not striding in the shadows stealing from innocent men.

I was struck out of my deep thought by a hand on my back. It was Marcurio. He was standing, extending his hand. "Come on, Solir. Let's join them! Dance with me!"

"What?" I said, confused.

I the realized the music had changed. The songstress was joined by two more others. A group comprised of a flutist, a lute player and a percussionist. Tambourines chimed and woodwinds sang; the lute played the main melody of this jig. The men and women started to get up from their seats and dance. They laughed and they hooted, and stomped their feet and clapped their hands.

"What about the mission?" I asked. "We have to—"

Before I could say anything else, the mage placed a finger to my lips. I stared at it, and my face started to color. "There's still some time. Just one dance, that's all I ask…" He placed on a playful pout. "Please, Solir." And to make things worse he put his hands together and kneeled. It made him look like a dog begging for scraps.

"Alright, fine!" I exclaimed unhappily. This was the only way to satisfy him and carry on with the mission. The mage leapt to his feet. I took his hand and he pulled me up from the chair with one strong yank. I almost fumbled over, but Marcurio caught me by the waist. He put his hand in mine and twirled me around, laughing. It was hard to very uncomfortable to move around in thick leather! "Marcurio…I'm telling you. I can't dance."

But he wasn't listening again. "Hey!" He chuckled, clapping to the beat of the song. The music, accompanied by the voices of the merry-making people resonated so loudly that the guards outside the tavern seemed to peek through the amber windows, jealous of the excitement. His fingers laced around mine, and he spun me one more time. This time I found myself smiling as the world circled around me. Marcurio, in a merry tone said. "See! That's right, you're not so bad at this after all!"

I had always felt a bit awkward dancing, since I was never the type to do so. But tonight, there was something in the atmosphere that had made me feel like a professional at the jig. Perhaps it was the warmth of the tavern, or maybe the hit of the liquor on its guests. Or maybe…just maybe…it was that fool of an apprentice wizard.


	14. Scoundrel's Folly

**Chapter 14: Scoundrel's Folly**

The soft sound of chimes and the crash of the waves against the rocks were all we could hear as soon as we came down to the Soltiude docks. The large gate of warehouse of the East Empire Trading Company, which was built on the rock face, greeted us in the dim light. The distant lighthouse guided the ship, _The Ice Runner_ off into the Sea of Ghosts, and the guards were all too busy watching as the vessel glided off into the misty abyss.

Marcurio and I quickly slid into the warehouse unnoticed. The door creaked softly as he shut it. I took a moment to catch my breath, and closed my eyes, but the mage was already up in front of me, and with wonder in his voice, he said, "Would you look at that!" I opened my eyes to gaze at what caught Marcurio's attention.

The East Empire Trading Company had carved out the entire interior of the mount to make space for the warehouse. The entrance held the water gate, and a second dock, where a large trade ship was berthed. Towards the back of the cave were rows and rows of shelves filled with trinkets and treasures rose up to the heights of a house. "If the Thieves Guild got a hand on this," I commented. "We'd be solved for life."

"Not a good idea," Marcurio retorted. "Theoretically speaking, it'd be hard to infiltrate this place, since its positioned in a cove, and it's covered both by Solitude and the Empire. If you were to heist it, your mission would be easily compromised—you'd be trapped in this place like rats if you would be caught. There's only one entrance and one exit."

"Alright, fine," I cut in, rolling my eyes. "I get it. Wait, there's Gulum-Ei!"

"Hide!" Marcurio hissed, ducking. I realized he had been heading our way. We hid behind a stack of wooden crates. Tufts of hay jutted out of the cracks and holes in the cargo, and it started to smell a bit like rotten meat. Marcurio scrunched his nose, and started fanning the air in front of him. "Man, this smells awful."

"Shh…" I scolded him.

The Argonian's footfalls echoed loudly after a few moments. They were loud and slow-paced, as if he had been strolling in a park. They grew louder and louder, then suddenly, the sound had stopped altogether. I peeked into the spaces between the crates, only to find out that he had been standing right across us. I could see his scaly and muscular brown-green legs. My heart started to pound vigorously when we started to hear the man sniffing. "Ah, it's nothing…" he assured himself after some time of smelling the air. The lizard man then started to walk away—we heard his steps fade into the distance.

"Phew!" Marcurio exclaimed, placing a hand abreast. "That was close."

"Come, let's go. We have to shadow him," I told him, standing up. I could feel the blood start to rush down my legs. I peered into the distance and followed the light of a torch that Gulum-Ei seemed to be using. The flame flickered as it ran through the rows of cargo. The shadows of many boxes of supplies raced across the floor. We ran quickly and lightly through the labyrinth of shelves. Every now and then Gulum-Ei would look back and point his torch towards the still darkness, but he could not see us. We were masters of the night.

Now the Argonian's pace was made faster. He hurriedly walked through the warehouse, and disappeared behind a wall of crates all marked with the Company's logo. At this, the mage and I got rid of our stealthy tactic and made all haste to catch up with Gulum-Ei. We ran straight across the dock, the ankle-high water sloshing at our feet. The tide was slowly receding, that it exposed the forward of the trade ship.

We reached the wall of crates, but Gulum-Ei was no where to be found. "That sly lizard man!" Marcurio commented. "Where the hell did he go? There has to be some kind of trick here." He began to search behind the wall, while I searched the front of it. Desperately, I began rubbing my hands across the boxes in hopes that there would be some lever or chain that pops out of nowhere.

"I can't find anything here!" Marcurio cried out.

"Nothing here, either!" I cried back. I bent down low to examine the bottom of the boxes, when I felt a breeze blow across my feet. I placed my hand near the ground to feel where the air was coming from, and I slowly followed it, until I could feel a whole vent of air brushing against my palm. "Marcurio, over here! I think I found something."

At once the Imperial man came jogging towards me, his funny-looking ponytail bobbing behind him. The mage came to squat with me and feel the vent. Then, he stood up and straight and began to analyze the curious stack of boxes. "There must be a hidden door somewhere here," he said, looking at me, perplexed. "Start knocking on the boxes, there must be a hollow one here."

And we were off. I rapped my knuckles lightly on the fourth row boxes from the top, from right to left. The first box was solid, and so was the second, and the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, but as I knocked on the sixth box, there was a hollow ring to it. "This is it," I told Marcurio, and looked around. I found an iron mace sitting on a shelf. Immediately I grabbed it and started hacking at the hollow crate. The thing started to splinter and crack.

"What do you think you're doing?" Marcurio asked me, horrified. "Don't be so loud, we're going to be heard!"

"I'm getting us in," I told him, arcing my mace. With one strong swing, the box split and flew backwards, revealing a part of some dark tunnel behind it. The other boxes on top of it did not come crashing down. This was no stack of crates, but it was nearly a façade! I pushed the other crates below the destroyed one to make a space just large enough for us to fit through. "If you can't find a way around it, go through it."

"Ah, you simple-minded woman," Marcurio laughed wryly.

"Follow me," I had began to walk into the tunnel before the mage could even complain.

"Alright…" He said quite unsurely, stepping into the narrow path. "Next time, let's try not to make too much noise, okay? I've heard that cave-ins can start that way." And he caught up behind me to light up his mage fire.

We walked for a couple of minutes, until we came to the other end of the tunnel. This was another part of the Company's warehouse—a secret cove—but the ceiling was a lot lower and the shelves were already hitting the stalactites of the cave. And there, huddled next to a small pit fire by the water's edge was the Argonian, Gulum-Ei. He wore a deep red tunic and yellowed pants. His back was towards us, but I could already picture his frightened face.

"Gulum-Ei," I said in a loud voice that echoed across the cave.

The fire started to flicker, as if startled, and the lizard man got up in a hurry, breathing nervously. He looked towards me as I took out my dagger and raised it up for him to see. Gulum-Ei raised his hands in the air, signaling surrender. "Now, now, there's no need to do anything rash! This isn't as bad as it seems! I was going to tell Mercer about this, I promise you! Please…he'll have me killed."

"You tell us now, or we'll kill you where you stand," I threatened him, drawing the dagger closer to Gulum-Ei. The blade was already shivering, ready to bite into Argonian flesh.

"No, please! I'll tell you everything! It's Karliah! Her name's Karliah!" he blurted out, shielding himself with his arms. I could not see his face anymore.

"Karliah?" And with that, I lowered the dagger.

"Mercer never told you about her?" And his hands started to come down as well. "Karliah's the thief responsible for murdering the previous guild master, Gallus. Now she's after Mercer as well."

"Really, and you're helping her?" I furrowed my brow.

"Help…? No, no! I didn't even know it was her until she contacted me."

"There's so much uncertainty in your voice, Argonian. You're lying!" I feinted a stab with the dagger into the air, and Gulum-Ei flinched.

"Wait, please! You have to believe me!"

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know! When I asked her where she was going, all she told me was: 'Where the End Began'. Here, take this: it's the real deed of Goldenglow Estate with Karliah's name on it. Show it to Mercer and he'll figure out I'm more use to him alive than dead," and he drew something out of his pocket. Gulum-Ei passed it to me, his hands shaking terribly.

I snatched it from his grasp. Immediately I unraveled the parchment and scanned through the document. This was a real deed, and instead of Gulum-Ei's name on it, it was signed by some 'Karliah' woman. This had to be it, I told myself. But there had to be more. I looked up at the Argonian and said. "Why did Karliah purchase Goldenglow, then?"

"Her motive? I don't know," Gulum-Ei's voice then turned serious. "But I know this: she's trying to hit the Thieves Guild where it hurts. Maven needs Goldenglow for her mead, and she's been using the Guild to keep the estate under her thumb. If the owner keeps the Guild out of the picture, then she cuts Maven out of the picture…which she can't afford. If I was Maven, I'd stop my ties to the Guild altogether. Isn't that what Karliah would have wanted? A fallen brotherhood—a divided one, and once she aims for the head, the whole Guild could be destroyed forever. This Karliah must have spent a long time planning for this."

"Alright. You know what, I'm going to keep quiet about your little scam, but you owe me. A lot."

Gulum-Ei exhaled deeply. "Now you're speaking my language," he said, with a sign of relief. "Tell you what. If you need any goods fenced—any of your _stolen_ goods you want for a good price—then come to me. Also, I work with the East Empire Trading Company now. They won't even notice if I pocket a few potions or robes. Maybe you want some expert robes for your friend, here? Hmm?"

"Err…no thanks," Marcurio commented. "Just don't get so cocky, Argonian."

"Fine, fine," Gulum Ei laughed haughtily. "Just consider me your new friend in the north."

* * *

After that, we were allowed to take some items from the chests in that area. I bagged enough potions to last me a few weeks. Marcurio was able to find himself a good staff, and I a sleek and beautiful elven sword. Gulum-Ei remained in the secret cove, and pointed us to an exit by the breakwater. We slipped out of the cave and found ourselves on the icy shoreline of the Sea of Ghosts. Large icebergs loomed in the distance, and the fog hovered over the motionless water like a thin veil. The weather was colder than Riften for sure, but it was still bearable. The lights from Solitude above us pulsed like the stars in the sky.

"This is crazy," Marcurio commented, as we started our way back to the city.

"I know. The Guild is slowly being torn apart by this Karliah fellow."

"No, not that," the man cut in. "I mean, you, going through everything, just so that you can take revenge on your father? Isn't this a bit…too extreme? You have to keep your mind on the goal, Solir, or else you'll forget what you're fighting for. It's either you live for the Guild or you live for yourself."

My eyes widened. "I do know what I'm fighting for!" I exclaimed, a bit hurt. "I am going to avenge my mother, but I can't do it alone, don't you see? I need these people to help me. They know the caravan routes. Brynjolf attacked us when I was a little girl. When they spot my father's caravan, we'll attack it, and we'll kill him!"

"But how will you know where he'll be? This is all mere chance. You're putting your whole life on the line just to do some thieves' dirty work!" He raised his voice, so I had no choice but to raise mine as well. "You shouldn't do this anymore! You're going to get yourself killed."

"Then what do you suppose I do?!" I screamed. "You don't know anything about me, Marcurio!"

At this, Marcurio was quieted. He looked away, his face dark with disappointment. "I was going to help you, Solir, I really was…" he said in a sad and soft voice. "You won't need to keep up with them anymore…"

"Well, I supposed that's something we disagree on," I said bluntly. I folded my arms, and started to feel my blood boil. "Marcurio, I…I think that it's time for us to part ways." I looked at him, straight into his amber eyes that burnt with sadness, with no fear and no regret.

Marcurio's mouth hung open in shock. The sadness in his eyes suddenly turned into anger. He bent forward, towards me, so close that our noses almost touched. In a deep and solemn voice he said. "So, you think you can make it on your own, huh? Let's just see about that."

"I'm not on my own, the Guild will help me!" I yelled.

But Marcurio had already started walking away. It didn't take long until his figure had disappeared into the misty night. Then, it became silent. Terribly silent. I stared at the dark horizon watching the wisps of white dance over the shadowy waters. I started to feel hot tears build up in my eyes. I wiped them away using my leather gauntlets, which left my eyes very itchy. Moments later, I found myself breaking down and crying. I didn't know why I was doing so—whether it was out of fear or frustration. I cried and cried, until my tears were no more.

For the very first time of my life, I felt so alone.


	15. Words of Power

_Author's Note: _

_Thank you so much to everybody for supporting The Thief Queen. As of now, the story has accumulated over two thousands views, and I'm very glad for that. I am happy to hear many people are enjoying the story. I've played through the Thieves Guild quest, and completed it, so many of those who have done so probably know where the story is going. But! I will take a lot of creative liberty to switch up the story, so it's going to be quite different from what you are expecting. Also, locations, people, and circumstances are open to change, so please keep an open mind about this too. Thank you so much for all your understanding and love! _

_Airbendergal_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Words of Power**

"So, you think you can make it on your own, huh? Let's just see about that." Marcurio's words were like a wolf's bite—strong and painful. And to think he just started to walk away before I could even explain anything thoroughly! Seriously, he calls himself a follower? The only person he follows is himself!

I spent a night back at the _Winking Skeever_ to douse of my grief. A few rounds of the Sans' spiced wine did seem to wash away my problems, but only by a bit. Not even the singing of the bards seemed to remedy my ache. Even if the inn was packed full with visitors, I felt so alone. There was news of Vittoria Vici, the cousin of the emperor, and of her wedding. They said the emperor himself would come to Solitude for the feast in the next couple of days. I told myself it would be quite a hassle to stay within the city during such a busy time, and I had to relay the information Gulum-Ei gave me to Mercer, so I decided to leave the next day.

Sahvik was in the Solitude stables next to a farm. Marcurio and I had met its owner yesterday and she seemed to be a nice lady. Her old husband worked in the nearby mill, while her daughter, a maiden of about seventeen years, helped her with the harvesting and weaving. They all seemed so happy and contented with their lives. When I returned to the stables to fetch the horse, though, it seemed like a completely different story. It was night time, and two guards were viciously rapping at their farmhouse's door. No one seemed to be answering, and the animals were terribly quieted and still.

"Open up!" yelled one of the guards. "We know you're in there!"

No one was answering from inside, but the lights were on inside the house. The guards kept on knocking. It seemed unusual for them to be harassing civilians. I walked up to them. "What's the matter?"

"None of your business, Imperial," snapped the guard to the right, waving his torch in front of me to shoo me away. "Now run along before any trouble breaks out."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me," I said firmly.

The other guard groaned. He seemed to deny my presence and continued knocking. When no one seemed to respond, he resulted to banging on the door. "I am giving you ten seconds to come out with the girl! If you don't comply, we will burn down your mill!"

That seemed to provoke a response. The door flung open and the father miller came out with a woodcutter's axe in his hands. The old man swung the axe carelessly at the Solitude guard, missing the man by half a foot. "What do you want from us, you perverted fools?" the father cried out. "Leave my daughter alone, she has nothing to do with you!"

"Put your weapon down, sir, or we'll be forced to bring you to jail!" the guard shouted back at the father, drawing his sword. "Harron, go inside and get the girl!" The iron-clad man jerked his head towards the open farmhouse. The other guard rushed inside. The father, in a frenzy, took to the entering guard and hacked his axe at the soldier, but all the blunted weapon could do was leave a terrible dent on the Solitude guard's chestplate. The second guard continued inside and brought the poor daughter out of her house. She was being held by the arm, and the maiden was struggling to break free of the soldier's grasp. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, but she was slipping across the damp soil as the guard dragged her across the field.

"Please, let go! It hurts!" she pleaded, as the grime of the soil splattered and stained the ends of her pretty white dress. "I'll do anything you say, just please don't take my father to jail!"

"You know, this could have been all avoided if you only paid your taxes…" sighed the guard who was pulling at her. He threw the young woman forward and she fell to her knees. "Your family has been charged with tax evasion for the last couple of months. Since you were not able to pay your dues in the time given, we're afraid we will have to take something else of value…"

"Your daughter will serve us well back at Dragon's Bridge, sir," said the other guard in a mischievous tone. "We could always use someone like her back in the barracks."

The elder father gave out a terrifying roar, and arced his axe. The guards only laughed as he hit nothing but air. Short of breath, the father bent down to breathe, but as he did the Solitude guard kicked him in the gut. The old man flew back a few feet and landed on his butt.

This was not right. No girl should ever be treated that way! No elderly man should ever be treated that way! With no time to waste, I took out my new Elven sword. It seemed to ring with the power of the High Elves as it was sheathed. I held it in front of me. "Stop!" I commanded.

The two guards halted, and looked towards me. Their helmets shined brightly in the torchlight. "You're still here?" said one of them. "I told you to leave, you little trouble maker! Get out—_glah!_"

Before he could say anything else, a blood surfaced on his cuirass. I had stabbed him in the ribs. At once he let go of the girl, and she went running to her father. The unwounded guard came running towards me in full force, with his large sword ready to strike. He lunged towards me and swung his sword but I dodged it and counter attacked. The guard stumbled back, and I took that moment to aim for his head. The moment he regained his balance, I swiped my sword at him. The elven blade ripped through the skin of his neck, bit through the bones and came out clean the other side. His head to roll off his body, before hitting the ground with a thud.

The young maiden screamed, while the other guard was busy still groaning inpain. It didn't take me long to realize what I had done. The helmet had disjointed from the rest of the armor, and a pool of blood began to leak out of it. I realized this was no metal monster, but a human, like everyone else on the farm. That moment had reminded me of my mother, destroyed, and my father, defeated by anger. I stood there in shock for a couple of moments. I had done the exact thing that that monster had done to my own mother—it was a terrible vision. Even up to Solitude, my father's shadow followed me. The young maiden snapped me away from the memory when she shook me. "The others are coming! Leave!"

I got up on Savihk and struck the horse by the reins. I could see a few other little lights quickly running down the hill. I turned the horse to the young maiden and her father and said. "If anyone asks you what happened, tell them that you were raided by the Thieves Guild."

"Yes. Thank you," the young maiden nodded.

And with that, we took off, dashing across the highroad. We traveled far down the southern way, quick enough to disappear from the area before the rest of the guards could see us. Savihk ran through the snow. Her sturdy make-up made the crunching under us louder and crisper, yet we were riding at a fast pace. A snow bear almost nabbed us as we treaded past a short mountain pass. We rode up a slope, to the top of a snowy hill. The landscape was all in black and white, and the icy shoreline of the northern sea stretched out before us. There we stopped. I dismounted the horse, my legs trembling from tiredness. I took a moment to catch my breath, taking in the cold air. My breath began to draw white clouds as I puffed some hot air into my hands. I rubbed them together until contented.

The sound of the howling wind seemed to calm down all of a sudden. It was replaced by a new gust. It was some sort of sucking sound, like when one conjures a familiar. "Do you hear that?" I asked the horse. But of course she would not reply. I turned my head, following the sound. It came from behind a mass of rocks at the bottom of the hill. I mounted the horse once again and trotted down the hill. The sucking sound grew louder and louder. The gale was not blowing hard, so where was the sound coming from?

As soon as we reached the bottom of the hill, I could see that the large rock formation was actually a gigantic solid slab of stone. No, actually, it was more than that. It was a semi-circular tablet. There were writings in the stone, in some ancient language. The sucking sound continued. I dismounted Savihk and came walking to it slowly. The soft sound of chanting then started to play. It was like a thousand Nord warriors crying out in a terrible battle chant. _Hua! Ho! Ha! Hua! Ho! Ha!_ The sound continued incessantly as I approached the great word wall. There was something in me that began to burn, like some invisible fire. I could hear spirits calling out my name.

I stood erect in front of the word wall. "This must be ancient Nordic language," I told myself. "It must be…" Three words scattered in different parts of the wall started to glow a bright blue. Golden and Silver streaks of light started to jet out from the rock, and entered me. It was like the dragon incident all over again. My body began to tremble, and my vision began to blur.

_Hua! Ho! Ha! Hua! Ho! Ha!_ The mad chant continued, louder and louder with a battle drum playing in the background. _Hua! Ho! Ha! Hua! Ho! Ha! Hua! Ho! Ha!_

Everything around me became unrecognizable, except for those three magic words. And for some strange reason, I could understand them. These words, inscribed in the ancient writing, said: "Push", "Force" and "Balance". It did not take much long before the whole world began to fade into view once again. I was nauseous by the time that had finished, as if some animal was tossing around in my stomach, aching to get out. The feeling was crawling up my throat, like a serpent on fire. Not being able to control myself any longer, I lurched forward, clenching my stomach, and in a loud and violent voice, I suddenly shouted: **"FUS!" **

A great blue wave of light surged in the direction of the ear-piercing sound, and at the same time I was blown back in recoil. The blast hit a couple of white trees many meters away. Upon impact, the conifers began to splinter and crack. The great giants broke off at its trunk like mere twigs. A large billow of snow formed where the path of the wave. The thing had created a whole trench in the ground!

At this, I cupped my mouth, flabbergasted. Savihk, terrified, galloped into the nearby forest. The mad chanting and the sucking sound disappeared all together. The word wall was now a lifeless tablet erected on the mountainside. This power…what could it have been? Then, I suddenly remembered what the Riften guard had told me many weeks ago. "_Well, if you're really the dragonborn, then you have to shout, using your __Thu'um_!" This must have been it…the Thu'um. If that was so, then I must have been this Dragonborn that these men were talking about.

Out of nowhere, the sound of a dragon's call echoed across the starless sky. I looked up to the heavens, my eyes scanning through the banks of clouds. My heart began to pound vigorously. Without a second thought, I did the thing that I do best. I ran. Maybe that was the only thing I was good for.


	16. Hidden Intentions

**Chapter 16: Hidden Intentions**

If there was something worse than slaying a dragon, it had got to be telling the truth to everyone about myself. Dragons were fine and dandy if they weren't out to kill me, but to tell the truth was something in my right mind that I could not afford to do right now. I was lucky to have encountered the Companions, a warrior group from the city of Whiterun traveling on the Solitude highroad, when the dragon came swooping down. At once the group had drawn their weapons with battle lust at the sight of the winged demon, and leapt into action. There were to large men, brothers, and perhaps even twins, both with menacing weapons and a redheaded woman with a hunting bow. The woman gave no mercy to the dragon as it swooped down and tried to grab at the Companions with its talons; she sent fusillades of arrows into the air like iron rain. The twins attacked the dragon with full force as soon as it crash-landed into the ground, and sooner it was as lifeless as a doornail. I ran to the group to give them my thanks, but as soon I did, the dragon soul came into me once again, and left them astounded.

"You're the Dragonborn?" one of the twins suddenly asked. He was the one with shorter hair, Vilkas. "I can't believe that you have returned to Skyrim, after so many years. A Dragonborn hasn't showed himself here for more than two hundred years."

"Yes, that's me, I believe," I replied, a bit unsure of myself. Yet I still wanted to know more about this power. "You mean there is more than one Dragonborn?"

"Well, yes, legends tell of that. But I am not old enough to know if it's true or not," replied Vilkas. "This is my twin brother, Farkas, and she is the mightiest Nord female in all of Tamriel, Aela."

At this, the woman laughed, her bright green eyes twinkling. "Ha! Seriously, Vilkas? You're too modest," she said, then turned to me. "If you're the Dragonborn, then show us your mighty Thu'um that makes foes run in fear."

I turned around to face the skeleton of the dragon, and drawing my breath, I thought of the words of power. At once the feeling climb up my throat again, and in a tumultuous voice, I shouted out: "**FUS RO!**" At an instant what was left of the dragon went flying through the air. The whole skeleton seemed to take flight as if the beast was revived. The bones scattered around the ground, clattering as they piled up on top of each other. "That's new!" I remarked, referring the new word, Ro.

"The Dragonborn!" Farkas exclaimed, astounded. "It's really you."

"Isn't it obvious, Farkas?" asked his twin brother. "The woman just demonstrated her mighty Voice! The same one Ulfric used to blow High King Torryg into oblivion."

"You know, if you have the guts you should come and join us in Jorrvaskr, where the fires are warm and the mead runs like water," Aela told me in a voice resolute. "Come, join us, the Companions."

"Thank you for the offer, really," I said, raising my hands, laughing nervously. I tried my best not to upset these fearsome warriors. "I am currently doing some business for another group, so I'm afraid I have to decline your offer this time."

A pout crawled up on Aela's face. "Really now? Some _Dovahkiin_ business? Alright, well…we will always be in Whiterun, so if you're seeking for some new adventure then visit us at the mead hall of Jorrvaskr." They seemed to be a bit disappointed, and it was noticeable in the way they trod in the opposite direction. The Companions were headed North in search of the next great beast to slay, while I continued southeast in the direction of Riften.

* * *

When I returned to the Ragged Flagon, the place seemed to be very quiet with anxiety. Vekel the Man was sweeping the floors of the tavern silently, with his head bent low, while Vex seemed to be picking a fight with Delvin Mallory. "You wanna know why I'm angry, chump? Here's your damn proof!" she said sharply, throwing a crumpled piece of paper at the almost-bald man's face. Delvin's perverted smile suddenly turned into a frown when he opened the paper and scanned through the note. (No one really told me about what the note had said until that night, when Niruin said in verbatim the contents of the letter: "_Delvin, Master of Sneaking, huh? Next time I see you trying to sneak a peek at me while I'm bathing at the lake again, I'll cut off your most valuable asset. Vex."_ The Bosmer got a good chuckle out of it, and I had to admit I choked out a few bursts of laughter myself.)

"Where's Mercer?" I asked Vekel the Man, and he just pointed his head into the door that lead into the cistern. At once, I found Mercer Frey by the entrance of the vault, and he was tinkering with something on the door. I decided to call his attention. "Guild Master."

"Nyah!" he snarled, throwing something to the ground and turning around. His twisted face turned into a forced smile. "Solir, my dearest girl! How good you have become at sneaking. Why, you even managed to sneak up on me, and no one has that gift!"

The crowd was already beginning to form behind me the moment we engaged in dialogue. "Mercer, I know who's behind this," I said in a serious voice. Mercer's eyes seemed to widen in anxiousness. His breath became short and nervous. "The person behind this…her name is Karliah."

The group broke into a sea of gasps. "Karliah!" Mercer exclaimed, jerking his hands upwards. "Oh, divines! That name—it rings with a thousand bad memories. That witch has finally resurfaced after twenty-five years. She's the—"

"I know who she is, Gulum-Ei told me about her," I cut in. "That traitor killed the previous guild master, Gallus. Now, I think that she's the one who's been trying to drive a rift between the Guild, Mercer. She's going to try to kill you. We have to do something about it. You must protect yourself."

A glint appeared in Mercer's eye. "And that pesky Argonian told you this?" he asked to assure himself. I nodded. He then turned to the guild and said. "Everyone, leave. This matter needs to be discussed _in private_." And he stressed on the last two words. The group behind me started to disperse. As Brynjolf turned around and started walking away, Mercer called his attention and told him to remain with us. The Nord obliged without complaints.

"This situation is getting out of control. Now that Karliah's in the picture, it's getting a lot more complicated," Mercer started. "What other information did you manage to eke out of Gulum-Ei, girl?"

"Karliah told him that she will be waiting '_where the end began'_, but nothing else," I replied. And that seemed to stir something within the guild master. "Is there something wrong, Mercer?"

"Of course, how silly could I be," the man was mumbling to himself. "Where the end began…this could be no where else than the Snow Veil Sanctuary north from here. That was the very place where Karliah killed Gallus."

"What do you intend to do, then?"

"I have no choice," Mercer said, sighing. "I will have to face her myself. And you, Solir. You have to come with me. Meet me in front of the Snow Veil Sanctuary as soon as possible. I'll be loading and restocking a few supplies of my own tonight, and will make leave for Windhelm tomorrow morning. Brynjolf, I need you to tell Maven of this. Tell her, too, that I will personally be responsible for all the actions of the Guild now that Karliah has appeared. I'm sure that name will strike a chord in her memory."

"Yes, Mercer," Brynjolf nodded lightly.

"That's all for now." The private meeting seemed to be over, since Mercer was already making his way towards his large working desk. The skull of a troll now decorated the end of his table, and a stuffed head of a goat hung from a plaque behind him.

"Mercer, some trouble," Niruin said, approaching him with a parcel. "We've gotten reports from some of our friends in Whiterun. The Honningbrew Meadery seems to be getting a lot of funds, and our sources can't trace where the money's coming from. The meadery will have a taste-testing feast for some consuls in the next few days. If we manage to somehow destroy their image, then we can boost Maven's business."

"Send Vex or Tonilia to do the job," Mercer said, his eyes concentrated on his large book. His fingers ran down the page. His tone was filled with irritation. "It's not really about Maven anymore, you get it? The whole guild's life—my life—is put into jeopardy. And you'd be smart enough to remember that Karliah's our first priority now. We have to see her dead."

I watched this unfold from afar, with Brynjolf. We were in an isolated spot of the cistern, where the crates were stacked and used as storages for weapons and supplies. I was most certainly sure that this was where the men took a piss, for it reeked of urine. This did not seem to bother the Nord, though. His eyes were filled were some sort of joy, and I couldn't understand why.

"How can you stay so calm?" I asked him, hanging my head.

"I'm not calm. I am just as nervous as you are, lass," Brynjolf said, shaking his hands in their place. "But it's this fear that's driving the Guild into places it could never reach before, and that's a good thing. See! Even the Guild Master himself wet his pants a little, and now he's working for efficiently than ever. You're really something special, Solir." And I knew that tone in his voice. It was a tone that drew a fine line between a compliment and something romantic.

"No, no, no, I'm not," I said, shaking my head.

"But you are, lass. You're the star here. So go and run the show!" His hands went up into the air, and found themselves gripping tightly on my shoulders. "I have to thank you, Solir. Thank you for bringing this place back to life." His eyes that seemed to smile each time he talked smiled even bigger. His gesture was warm, but I did not need that type of affection. He was in love with someone I was not.

"You don't get it, do you?" I snapped at Brynjolf. His eyes turned wide in surprise. I swatted his hands off my shoulders, hoping to send a message to him. "You seriously don't remember who I am?"

"What are you trying to say, lass?" Brynjolf asked, confused.

"You met me before, when I was just a girl. You and some of your buddies here attacked my family's caravan during our trip to Elsweyr. Don't tell me you forgot what happened…because I remember everything. You drew up a dagger to my father's neck, and told me these very words: '_Maybe you'd like a taste?_'. Your guild took everything from us that day."

"I-I…I do remember you…" Brynjolf stuttered, taking an involuntary step back. He looked at me from head to toe, his mouth hanging. "You were that little Imperial girl who tried to swordfight with me. Now you…you are all grown."

I nodded my head. I thought that this would be an opportunity to tell him about my mastermind plan. "Brynjolf, listen, I'm really not this great and powerful protégé that everyone thinks I am. All I'm asking for is your help—your Guild's help. I need to know where my father is now, so I can find him and kill him. Can you track his caravan for me?"

"Is this some sort of joke?" The Nord thief asked, still very puzzled. "Why would you want to kill your own father?"

"Can you track his caravan for me?" I repeated firmly.

I saw Brynjolf's eyes grow still and grave. "I can," he replied, realizing the seriousness of the situation. "But, Solir…"

"I know it's not part of the Guild's operations, but _please_, I am begging you from the bottom of my heart. I need you to find him," and desperation was climbing out of my throat. My voice became soft. I clenched my fist. "He has to pay for what he's done to my family."

"Alright, I'll do it, for your sake," Brynjolf replied in a hushed tone. "But no one is to know about this, alright? I will tell Delvin, and make him swear an oath of silence. The man knows the routes of all weapons suppliers here in Skyrim. If we happen to chance on your family's caravan, then we'll tell you immediately. Are you satisfied with this?"

My heart began to flutter. "Yes, yes, yes," I said softly. I looked up into Brynjolf's emerald eyes. "Thank you, Brynjolf. You don't know how much this means to me."

"I do, lass," Brynjolf said assuringly. "More than you know."


	17. Where The End Began

**Chapter 17: Where the End Began **

Mercer Frey was standing by the large metal doors of the sanctum. The entrance to the crypt was built some feet below ground level, like a burrow, and it was a bit hard to locate since it was snowing terribly that day. Luckily for me, I could make out Mercer's black figure in the blanket of white, and when I did I ran up to him immediately. The Guild Master smirked when he saw me approaching. "Great," he said. "You're finally here. I scouted the ruins. I'm positive Karliah's still inside."

"You found her?" I asked.

"No, I found her horse," replied Mercer. "But don't worry, I've taken care of that. She won't be able to use it to escape now. Let's get moving. I want to catch her inside when she is distracted. Hurry, you go in first."

"You want _me_ to lead?" I was a bit surprised with Mercer's decision.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was under the impression that I was in charge," Mercer commented sarcastically. "You're leading and I'm following."

He was acting definitely different from the way he acted around the Thieves Guild hideout. Nevertheless, I told him that I understood, and we got into the ruins right away. Mercer used his master lock-picking skills to break through the entrance. We entered the dark and foul-smelling crypt. The passage way was narrow and long, and we passed through many rows of catacombs. Nordic men buried their ancestors in places like this, and some of their souls continued to dwell in the site. These were the undead, the Draugr.

"Just make sure you keep your eyes open. Karliah's as sharp as a blade," Mercer warned me, ducking his head when we met by some low-hanging rocks. "The last thing I want you to do is set off a trap and let that woman know we're here."

There was some soft rumbling coming from inside of a rock face. I pressed my ear against it. Then, some sort of hissing noise came from between the cracks of the rock. The whole slab flew forward and out popped a Draugr, just as we feared! Mercer cursed, and drew his double blades. The steel sung as they met the undead's own ancient weapon. "Your blood will adorn my blade!" the Guild Master cried out, as he began to glow a bright red color. The zombie hacked his axe at Mercer, but he dodged it. Red orbs started to spin wildly around the enemy, and began striking as meteors do to the earth. Frey whipped his swords around effortlessly, with the speed of a whirlwind. In an instant, the Draugr dropped to the ground, lifeless. He had been slaughtered mercilessly. "How pitiful," Mercer spat, as he kicked the carcass of the defeated foe.

I was amazed. Mercer Frey was awesome! No wonder he was chosen as a guild master—he had the skills of a true thief lord. "That was amazing, Mercer! How were you able to do that thing with the glowing red lights? Teach me," I told him.

The master grimaced. "If you work hard enough, Nocturnal will grant you a gift."

"Nocturnal?"

"The Daedric Prince of the Night and Darkness, and patron of our guild," Mercer explained. "It so happened, many years ago with Karliah and Gallus…The daedra herself appeared to us in all her glory. She granted us with gifts, special gifts that made us have supernatural powers—powers of the darkness! That is exactly why Karliah is so dangerous. Aside from being an experienced thief and seasoned markswoman, she's also a _Nightingale_, one who turned away from Nocturnal to use her powers for selfish reasons. She broke the daedra's pact, and now she too will have to face the consequences of this."

"Wow," I said, astounded. "This Karliah woman must be really dangerous."

"Wait, I hear something!" Mercer hissed, suddenly stopping. We had reached a large chamber by this time, and elevated on top of a large stone pedestal was a single sarcophagus. "There's some Draugr coming down the stairwell from the right. When it comes here, sneak behind it and kill it."

We receded behind a few boulders and waited for the dead man to come closer. This one was different from the rest of the Draugrs. On its head was a large helmet with demon-like horns, and its eyes glowed a piercing blue color. Out of its mouth seeped foul green mist, and in its hands was a large battleaxe. "A Deathlord," muttered Mercer, nudging me forward. I almost stumbled over the uneven ground, terrified.

"_If these ruins frighten you, take comfort in the knowledge that I am here."_ That was Marcurio's words when we stumbled upon this certain cave on the Whiterun plains. For a second, I wished that the mage would be here to set these monsters ablaze with his magic, but then I waved off the idea when I remembered our fight. I did not need Marcurio, not when I have someone better to protect me. Mercer was there, and he was going to kill Karliah.

I snapped out of the reminiscence when I heard a loud cry from behind me. "Get out, you fool!" It was Mercer, diving at me. He threw us out of the way before the Deathlord huffed a great "**FUS RO DAH!**", the echo of it trailing off like the sound of a long, dying gasp. A great blast of sound and light shook the entire crypt, so much that the ceiling had started to give way a bit.

We were still down among the rubble when the monster came hobbling towards us. A thin veil of dust still danced over the ground, which offered a bit of camouflage. I could see the Deathlord's blue eyes like stars in the night sky. Mercer took advantage of the enemy's confusion. He pushed himself off the floor and crept behind the Draugr. Using his supernatural power, he quickly stabbed the undead's back multiple times within fifteen seconds. The red and black dots came flying through the air and attacking the Deathlord as well. The last thing that was heard from the master of the crypt was the clatter of his heavy, ancient battleaxe against the polished stone ground.

The guild master ran towards the now dead undead. He rolled the body over to expose the backside of the monster, where I could see Mercer's many stab wounds break through the Deathlord's heavy chainmail. "Mercer…that power, what is it?" I asked, referring the to the Draugr's terrible shout.

"It is something called the Voice, my dear," he replied, patting at the corpse's pocket. While he continued talking to me, he was searching the body at the same time for something of interest. "Only those who have the power of the Thu'um can render great shouts like that. If one wants to master the voice it takes so many years, but if you were the Dragonborn, that would be a different story. It would be so easy to absorb the words of power from different places and master it at an instant. Ah, here we go."

He had just confirmed that the shouting of "**FUS RO DAH**" was somehow connected to me being the Dragonborn. The problem was, I was only able to mutter two of the words, **FUS **and **RO**, but there was no **DAH** coming out. I had wanted to ask Mercer about it, but I believed now was not the time to do so, since we were on a very important mission.

Frey pulled out a large, golden, mechanical claw from the holster of the Deathlord and showed it to me. "This is what I'm looking for, Solir. Look at it," he added, and passed the device to me.

I examined it. The claw looked like it was some Dwemer technology. On the palm of it was a vertical row of three animal symbols. The top most was a bear, followed by a moth under it, and then a dragon. "What is it?" I asked Mercer.

"It's a key, and a very curious one, at that," Mercer said, snatching it away from me. "Now even though I am a master lockpicker, there are still some vaults that require more than my skills. Ancient Nord burial crypts, most especially, have doors that have claws like this, and you'll see why. Follow me."

We continued down the track. We entered another passageway, this time much larger than the ones we used to get to the main burial site. This time, ancient fires that seemed to burn for an eternity marked the sides of the walkway. At the end of the hall was a large, circular dial mounted upon the wall. There were three rings with different animal symbols on it, and in the middle of the circle was the keyhole, where Mercer inserted the golden claw. "What was the combination again?"

"Bear, Moth, Dragon," I told Mercer, as he started to turn the dial. He aligned the symbols accordingly and once the dragon was in place, he slowly turned the claw. The key turned three hundred sixty degrees, before snapping back in place. The wall started to grumble, and the rings started to rotate the other way. The large, metal wall began to recede into the ground.

"Karliah is here, I am certain about it," Mercer said, stepping into the new area. I took a step forward, but Mercer looked back and me and said. "Wait, I'll scout the area, you stay here." I nodded, and crawled back into the tunnel, admiring the view by the end of it. This time, the place was much different from the rest of the crypt. The ceiling was very high, and tall Nordic pillars shaped like perched eagles lined the chamber.

Mercer disappeared into the darkness soon after. I waited for a few minutes, still very much alert. When I realized much time had passed and the guild master did not return, I decided to follow after him, fearing Karliah had gotten to him. Cautiously, I walked into the area, taking silent and slow steps. The place was absolutely large, and made even more audible the slightest of sounds. It was strange how Mercer was able to pass through this place undetected.

My heart began to pound when I realized that it was dead silent.

_Thwack!_ My eyes shot open as a sudden pang surged across my left shoulder. I fell to the ground. The world was quickly spinning around me. I gritted in pain, and the whole place started to turn into a greenish hue. Darkness slowly started to engulf my vision. I could barely breathe. I tried to move, but each strain of muscle was a pain so unbearable.

I saw Mercer jump a few meters in front of me. His back was towards me. It seemed he had someone else to confront.

"Ugh…" I managed to choke out. I could barely see anything, but I managed to make out a certain figure emerging from the darkness way in the back. It was the form of a woman, all clad in black. Her face was covered in a cowl. "K…a…"

"Karliah!" Mercer exclaimed. "So, you are alive. After all these years!"

"Yes, Mercer," Karliah said, the tone of her voice calm and collected. "And I am here to put an end to all this madness."

"You want to put it to an end, huh?" Mercer cried. "Then come, and face me!"

"I'm smart enough not to do that, Mercer," Karliah replied. "Facing you would be a death sentence. Look how twisted you've become, and to think you dragged someone else into all of this."

Mercer looked back at me in my lowest state, and laughed. "Hah! This girl? She was no more than a pawn in my plan!" And the man looked back at the mer. "And now that I've finally captured you here in this place, I can come and kill you, like I did to your precious Gallus!"

"Not this time, Mercer, not this time. But be rest assured that the next time we meet, it will be your undoing." At these words, Karliah disappeared into a puff of thick, black smoke.

Mercer charged into the billow, but he was too late. The elf had vanished into thin air. "Damn you!" he yelled, and the chamber shook. After his echo had faded into nothingness and he had regained some peace, he turned towards me and began to approach.

At this, I tried to move, but my body was not cooperating. All I could do was mutter. "M-M…"

The traitor laughed loudly. "My, my, my, how this story unfolds!" he said, shaking his head. "And the most intriguing part is, this all couldn't have all been possible without you, my dearest Solir! Let this ancient tomb be your final resting place."

Mercer Frey raised his sword, gripping it with both hands, and with one quick, strong stab the blade went through my gut. The whole world was suddenly swallowed by darkness.


	18. Karliah

**Chapter 18: Karliah**

* * *

"_What did you say, woman?!"_

"_That's right, Scipio! I gave your money away, and you'll never use it again for your stupid antics! Can't you see what you're doing to our family. No one is running the business anymore because you never come to work!"_

"_Who the hell did you give it to, Lucia?!"_

"_I donated it to the charity down at the Temple of Mara," Lucia replied. "The people need it more than some damn gambler like you! Look what you did to your family! Your own daughter doesn't want to stay with us anymore! She hasn't come back in two days, aren't you worried?"_

"_That girl can die for all I care! I don't need anyone anymore, you hear?" Scipio cried out, drawing a sword from the smelter. It was pulsing with a molten gold color. "That money was supposed to make us solved for life! Think of all the good things we could have done with that sum! These hands wouldn't have to tire every night making all these weapons for people who aren't going to use them anyway!"_

"_Those hands would never have to sin again, you fool! Look what you are doing to yourself! Look what you are doing to our family—you're breaking us apart!" And the woman began to back up as the man edged towards her, arcing the sword in the air. _

"_I'll break _you_ apart, you damn whore!" Scipio yelled, swinging the sword at the Lucia. _

"_No! Don't touch her!" I cried, running into the workshop and grabbing Scipio's arm before any damage was done. "You leave her alone!" _

_Scipio growled. He thrust his elbow back and jabbed me in the gut. I fell back, knocking over a pile of iron shields. The items clanged and clattered as it hit the floor. "You'll be next, you ungrateful little brat! Touch but one of these septims and your head will go flying off! Ngah!" He was suddenly cut off by a horseshoe to the head. The man whirled around, realizing that Lucia had thrown it. "You will regret what you've done!" _

_At that moment, the woman screamed. "Solir, RUN!"_

* * *

I opened my eyes, and the darkness began to fade into blinding light.

"Am I…?" My voice was weak.

"Dead? No." A familiar voice answered me.

My field of view began to expand, slowly, and I found myself lying down on a bedroll inside some sort of tent, covered by a blanket made out of goat's hide. Standing next to me was an elf woman all clad in black. Her large purple eyes were staring down at me with all the curiosity in the world.

"Karliah…?"

"Yes."

"Oh no…" The numbness of my body began to settle in, but there was nothing I could do. I wiggled my toes, then my fingers; they seemed to be responsive. I slowly brought my hands up to the end of the blanket and raised it, but then put it down fast when I realized that I had been undressed. My whole upper body was bandaged. I sat up hurriedly, holding the covers up to my chest to shield me. "Stay away!"

"Easy, easy. Do not get up so quickly, you will get hurt," Karliah told me, signaling me to stay down. "Please, there is no need to worry. I am not your enemy."

I held the site of my wound. It was tender with pain. I looked up at the elf taking a good look at her. Karliah's face was not as I imagined it. It looked kind and somewhat melancholic. She had large eyes and a small, sharp nose, pointed ears, and her skin was the color of coal. "How can I trust you when you shot me?"

"I saved you," she replied, squatting down beside me. "That arrow I used was tipped with a paralytic poison that slowed down your heart and prevented you from bleeding out. After Mercer left, I took you out of the sanctum, and I cleaned and mended your wound. You were lucky. A little bit higher and that blade would have pierced your heart. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

My eyes widened. "Why did you save me, then?"

"I originally intended to use it on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split decision to get you out of the way, and it prevented your death."

"Then I guess I'm in your debt, then…" I said softly.

"You are. More than you'll ever realize," said Karliah. "It took me one year to perfect that poison. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive, but I let that rat get away."

"Mercer tricked me," I spat, looking down in disappointment.

"He tricked us all," Karliah corrected. "That is why he needs to be captured alive. He must be brought in front of the guild and answer for all he's done. He needs to pay for Gallus' murder."

For a moment there, I felt like we were one and the same. Both of us were driven out of our homes and were stripped off our loved ones—Karliah to her guild and lover; I to my land and mother. We were both plotting revenge, though her plan was slow and deliberate, and carefully fabricated. She had waited almost twenty-five years for her to catch Mercer and I had ruined that plan. I couldn't help but feel guilty for what I had done. "Karliah, I…I'm sorry," was all I could say. "But how will you prove him guilty now that he's gone?"

"My purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush murder wasn't purely for irony's sake," Karliah explained, pulling out a small book from her side. "Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus' remains. I suspect that the information we need is inside."

"What does it say?" I asked, extending my hands so the dunmer could pass it to me. The book was bound in leather, and contained a seal on top of it that resembled a bird. The pages were flaking off and were terribly fragile, but I slowly opened it. The writing I couldn't make out.

"I wish I knew," Karliah sighed. "The entries are in some sort of language I've never seen before."

"Perhaps it can be translated?" I said, looking up at her.

The dark elf's purple eyes grew wide. "Enthir…" she started. Karliah was struck with an epiphany. "That's it! Gallus' friend in the College of Winterhold. Of course. He's the only outsider Gallus trusted with his identity as a Nightingale."

"Nightingale. That word…Mercer told me about it."

"Yes. There were three of us: myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter in the Thieves Guild."

"Mercer is a Nightingale too?" I asked, shocked. "He told me that you were a Nightingale, one who turned away from your goddess Nocturnal and used your powers for evil."

"He did, did he?" Karliah furrowed her brows. "That is nothing more than a lie. We Nightingales are servants of our patron, the daedric prince, Nocturnal. Mercer Frey is the one who turned against her. Has he ever shown his necromancer-like powers to you? That is the very power he used to betray and kill Gallus. I wish I could tell you more, but there is not much time. We have to make our way to Winterhold. Each moment we lose is a moment gained for the enemy. Can you stand?"

"I'll try," I said, as Karliah started making her way out of the tent.

"Just meet me outside when you're all dressed and geared up," Karliah's voice told me.

When I had put on all my armor (there was a gaping hole in the leather where the blade cut through and was in terrible need of sowing), I exited the tent. The elf woman was standing there patiently, her eyes stilled on me. It was as if she was always curious, so intrigued; it was most probably in her nature. She was as mysterious as the misty mountains cold. I had never really encountered much dunmer women before—most of the dark elves that visited the smithy were sell-swords and soldiers, and they were men.

"Here is your sword," Karliah said, passing me my elven blade.

I got the sword by its hilt, and stared at the reflection of the blade. Then, I swung it in front of me, feeling it cut through the air. This time, it was a bit harder to fight because my wound still hurt. Sheathing the sword, I asked her. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days," replied the dark elf. "A snowstorm came after Mercer left, and I was out to fend for ourselves. With my horse dead, and no way of communication, I was forced to wait it out."

"I see…" And there was some awkward silence.

"Come, I managed to get us a horse," she said, walking down a snowy slope. A few meters away from the tent, tied to the trunk of a dead tree, was a brown horse. "There was a bandit camp not far from here. While the men were sleeping, I rode away with the stallion."

Karliah mounted the brown horse first, and then I followed her in the back. The elf asked me to hold onto her, and I did. What took me with fascination was the intricate black leather armor she was wearing. Never in my life had I seen anything like it. The leather was glossy and smooth—its material I had never encountered in our workshop. "Karliah, your armor, where did it come from?"

"Not from Nirn, if you are wondering," Karliah said, in a voice louder than the crunching snow. "These suits were given to us by Nocturnal herself. It's kind isn't found in the physical world."

"The Nightingales, can you tell me more about them?" I asked her.

"We are servants of Nocturnal, as I have stated earlier," Karliah said, as the horse glided into a moderate pace. Lady Nocturnal is our patron, if not, the patron of all the thieves worldwide. We serve her without prayer or celebration. We serve her through protection of her shrines throughout Skyrim."

"And what of Gallus?"

At this she was somewhat quieted. It took a few gallops before she could speak. "Gallus…he was my one and only love."

My eyes widened. I regretted asking that question. "Karliah, I'm sorry."

The dunmer looked back at me to smirk, and then faced forward again. "You do not have to keep apologizing. There's nothing you have done wrong," she said in a softer voice. "All the apologies in the world cannot bring him back, perhaps even the death of Mercer. But that man has done more than kill a master. He has been leading the Thieves Guild into the very pits of hell for more than twenty years. Masking Gallus' death, inheriting the title of a Thief King—it's nothing more than a lie."

Just then, the horse we were on suddenly reared. Karliah jerked the animal's reins and cried. "Woah!" I slid back and hit the end of the saddle. The stallion forced its way around, despite the dunmer's commanding pulls. Its head began to rock back and forth, as if pointing its head away from the top of the white hill that we were about to approach. "What is happening?"

Just then, there was a shrill roar that shook the ground beneath us. And I knew exactly what that was. "Karliah, turn the horse around, now," I said breathlessly.

"What?"

But before she could even comprehend what I had said, a large winged creature emerged from the top of the hill. It was another dragon. Its silver body reflected the sun like the blade of a sword. Its mouth, a pit of spikes, opened, and I could see frost climbing out of its throat. "_Fo Krah Diin!_"

A jet of ice spikes shot out of its mouth. The lines of spikes pierced through the snow effortlessly, almost hitting the horse. Karliah, after passing me the reins, launched herself off the horse and landed squarely on the ground. I drove the horse into some trees nearby before running in to join her.

The frost dragon whipped its long, spiky neck around and tried snapping at me. I jumped back in time to evade the move. Its long, sharp talons dug into the ground as it hobbled over and tried to swipe its claw at Karliah. The elf summersaulted forward and landed on the dragon's foot. She ran up onto the back of the foe and suddenly disappeared.

"Karliah!" I screamed, looking over the dragon's shoulder, but finding no one mounted on it. The frost dragon breathed another line of ice around him. I rolled under it, disappearing from its line of sight. The dragon, confused, roared loudly, stomping its feet. I drew my blade and stuck it into the belly of the beast. At this, it pushed off the ground and took to the air, my elven sword still stuck to its under side. "Come back, you coward!"

Just then, Karliah popped out on top of the airborne dragon from a black and red swirling void like some sort of summoned daedra. Her figure, now the size of a hand, was slowly climbing towards the head of the dragon. She crossed the neck of spikes, the dragon still very unaware, and reached the head of the beast. Using her bow, she drew out a black arrow, and shot it. The arrow pierced through the head and came out the bottom side, just near the jaw. The dragon spiraled down into the ground, crashing into a clearing. A blanket of white jumped into the air.

"No!" I cried, racing towards the crash site. The dragon was there, and it was slowly diminishing. The head of it was moving up and down, breathing dying breaths. I looked around for Karliah, but she was nowhere to be found. I called out her name.

Just then, something amazing happened. The dying dragon, with an arrow through its head, opened its bloodied mouth slightly and began to mutter. "Dovahkiin…"

My jaw dropped. "Oh divines…"

"Dovahkiin…you think…once you slay all _dovah_, it will be _oblaan_? _Ni,_ no. There is one far beyond than us…He will _qolaas_ _lein_ _lot_, herald in a great world! _Alduin! Ii tiid nu!_ _Alduin! Alduin!_ _Al—_" But before it could say any more, its eyes rolled over to the back of its head, and its mouth shut.

"Damn dragons…" hissed another voice. This time it was Karliah's. Mounted on top of the carcass of the beast was the Nightingale. She sheathed her bow, then dusted her hands. "There has been an aweful lot of them recently."

"Did you hear that?" I asked her, amazed.

"Hear what?" asked Karliah, jumping down from the dragon.

"The dragon, it spoke to me!" I exclaimed.

Karliah raised her brow. "It did, did it?"

Just then the lights and sparks began to act up again. The body of the dragon went up in embers, and like little pieces of burnt parchment, went flying off the beast and entered me. The warmness of the absorption resonated within me. My body was glowing softly. At the end of the process, when all the sucking sound had faded away, I found Karliah standing there, her eyes purple eyes twice as large as they were before.

"You…you are the Dragonborn," Karliah said, out of breath.

"Yes, I know," I told her.

A little grin crawled up Karliah's black lips. "Then Mercer's got a lot more coming to him."


	19. Gallus' Journal

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank so much for all your support! The Thief Queen is becoming quite popular in the Skyrim fics section. This is one of the last chapters I'll be writing before going into a short hiatus. The next one might come in a week or so, so please just keep on checking back!_

_Ooh, trivia time: Did you know that the book cover for this fanfic is actually a screenshot of Solir herself in the actual game? It was taken a long time ago (last year, I think), and when I started the story it was edited real nicely. I think it makes a pretty good cover, how about you?_

_I would love to hear from you guys: If there was one person in the guild (one I have mentioned or may not have mentioned yet) that you could picture Solir to become best friends with after all this madness is done, who would it be? Comment when you review in the review box below! I'm so excited to see your input. _

* * *

**Chapter 19: Gallus' Journal**

The mere fact that they were all wearing mage robes made me irritated. It couldn't be stopped, of course, since it was mandatory that the students at the College of Winterhold wear the proper garb. Nevertheless the place had reeked with the scent of magic, and what was equal to that, Marcurio. The hold of Winterhold was a snowy badland, just as I had remembered Bjorlam tell me about. Here the sun could not penetrate through the thick heaps of clouds. Never were there any signs of bright daylight, only the fast-paced falling of little white flakes. The wind howled here too, louder than ever. Karliah told me that this place used to be one of the greatest cities in Skyrim, but it all changed when most of Winterhold fell into the sea. Peculiarly, the college was the only remnant of the city's great past.

I entered into the college alone, passing through a great stone walkway. The path was lined with magelight torches, magical balls of light that glowed brightly each time one would pass it. Karliah said that she would be in the Frozen Hearth tavern, and that it would be dangerous for her to keep on wandering around. Mercer had many spies, perhaps even in the college, and she wouldn't want to be found by one of them.

Pass the circular courtyard of the college, where the great statue of a mage stood, I made my way into the main hall, where a gigantic glowing orb of some magical sort stood. It wasn't long before a mage woman caught sight of me and inspected me. She was stout and short, and was donned in grey robes. "What is your business here, miss?" she asked.

"I'm looking for a friend," I replied. "His name is Enthir."

At the name, the woman's face contorted. "That little troublemaker?" she pursed her lips. "If you're looking for him, he's in his dorm. Oh, Brelyna! A little help, please!"

A passing dunmer mage came towards us, her face a bit sad. "Yes, Mirabelle?"

"Show this traveler to Enthir for me, would you?" she requested sourly. And then she faced me. "Now, if there's anything else you want, you will have to talk to somebody else. Being Master Wizard isn't as easy as it seems, you know…" And before I could even say anything, she had began to walk away.

Brelyna looked at me with the same curiosity as Karliah. "You are a new student?"

"Me? No," I said, surprised.

"Oh…I see…" the dark elf replied, her face sinking.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," Brelyna said, looking away. "I just thought that you were a new student. There's hardly been any new students here lately, let along women. No one thinks that the College of Winterhold is dependable anymore."

"I was never really into magic. I've always been into swords," I chuckled. "Though, I know of a mage. His name is Marcurio. He's a friend of mine. Have you heard of him?"

Brelyna's eyes seemed to widen. "Marcurio? Everyone here knows of him."

"Really? Can you tell me about him?"

"Marcurio was the college's best student," Brelyna explained. "Ever since he entered the college, he was always topping all the classes. He also got along with everyone really well. But then one day, he just dropped out, and he never returned. It's been two years."

I was surprised. I didn't expect him to be a top-notch student, well, not at least with that attitude of his. "Do you know why he dropped out?" I asked the dark elf. "Sorry if I am being a bit nosy about him. I just never expect him to be an achiever…" And I remembered the day I first met him. He was drinking away his whole life.

"No one really knows," Brelyna replied. "There were many rumors. One rumor was that he did something really terrible to one of the other students. The other one was that his family in Cyrodiil disowned him. Would you know where he is now?"

"He's in Riften."

"That's far from here. Very far…Well here we are." Our little conversation had ended by the time we had reached the entrance to the dormitories. "Enthir's quarters is on the second floor. Now I better warn you that he is a…peculiar fellow. He doesn't really like anyone snooping around where they're not supposed to be. Don't speak unless he asks something of you, and don't make any comments about his looks or his workspace."

That was a mighty lot to absorb. I nodded lightly. "Alright. Thank you, Brelyna."

"Thank you too," she said, a sad smile on her face. "It's been far too long since I spoke with someone of my age and gender." And at that note, the dark elf turned around and made her way between the columns of the courtyard and out of sight.

Before I entered the dormitory, I paused for a while to think of Marcurio. I was making a split-second analysis of his past. Both rumors were very probable, though I doubted the first one more than the second. When I thought more about it, and all the information just made me confused, I stopped, and told myself. "Not now."

I pushed the idea aside just as I did to the doors. The cold draft from outside blew into the dormitories, and my boots, damp with the snow, left a wet trail in my wake. Some of the college students looked at me weirdly as I slipped into the gathering hall. A magelight well sprung out from the middle of the dorm. Two Khajiit students were sharing a bottle of who-knows-what by the stairwell. A lovestruck High Elf man was trying to flirt with another High Elf student. An old professor seemed to be giving two students a sermon in a dim-lit hallway.

I passed through another stairwell in order to avoid the shady Khajiits, and found myself on the second floor. I looked across the floor to find Enthir, whom Karliah told me was a Bosmer. I did find a bosmer, the only one in the whole dormitory, in fact. This man was definitely Enthir. He was busy tinkering away with something in his closet. Even as I approached him and greeted him, "Good Morning", he did not turn around. He was mumbling some oddities to himself. Still absorbed in his work, he tossed back a staff, two soul gems and a dwarven gizmo. "Excuse me!" I exclaimed, poking his shoulder.

That seemed to have gotten his attention. The bosmer turned around, his up-turned orange eyes gleaming in the dim light. "What is it? Who are you? What are you doing here in the dormitory?" He was still caressing something in his hands, which I realized was the taxidermy head of a fox.

"I'm Solir Ezelino," I said. "There's something you need to know. It's very important."

"Important can wait. I've got better things to do," Enthir cut in curtly. He turned around to face his cabinet again. Muttering to himself, he said. "Onmund, you fool. You think you can strike a deal with me and then back out? Let the divines take you and give you Kyne's peace!" He began throwing out more stuff from inside his closet.

"Enthir, please listen," I pleaded. "It's about Gallus."

All the ratchet he was making suddenly ceased. The bosmer's head turned almost a hundred eighty degrees to face me. "Gallus?" he said in a grave and still voice. "Haven't heard that name in years." He had stopped what he was doing, dusted his hands and placed them akimbo.

"So you'll listen now?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm all ears," Enthir nodded. "But we can't talk about it here. Let's head over to the inn. I have a little place in the basement where's its safe to speak of him."

The wood elf and I made our way to the Frozen Hearth inn in the city proper. When we entered, the first thing I took note of was the generous amount of fire flowing from the pit. The warmth was very welcome, even though the people were as cold as their surroundings themselves. The innkeeper was a mean old man who did not come to offer us drink. Living with him was his old wife and another student from the college whom Enthir told me was a dropout just like Marcurio.

Karliah was sitting by the firepit, waiting patiently. I came to approach her, but Enthir had gotten to her first. "Karliah!" He exclaimed, opening his arms. The dunmer stood and accepted his hug. "All these years…you've finally returned. I suspect you have something to do with this problem too, am I correct?"

"Yes, you're right," Karliah said. "Come, there is much we must talk about."

"Of course," Enthir said, nodding lightly. "Follow me."

Enthir took us down to the cellars of the inn. When he had made sure that no one was following us, he shut the door tightly and exhaled sharply. "Alright, what's the deal with Gallus this time? It's been too long, Karliah, too long. Please tell me you have something to drill that Frey into the ground."

"I finally have a plan, Enthir," Karliah stated soundly. She took out the journal from her satchel. The wood elf looked down, and his face turned confused. "Do you know this book? It is Gallus' journal. I retrieved it from his body in Snow Veil Sanctuary. I lured Mercer into the crypt, but he escaped before I could shoot him."

"Mhmm...And this girl, what does she have to do with this?" Enthir said, looking at me suspiciously.

"Solir is helping me. She's part of the Guild," Karliah explained. "Enthir, this journal is written in some sort of language, and neither of us can decipher it. We were hoping that you knew something about it."

"Give it here," the wood elf said, opening his palm. The dark elf dropped the journal into his hand, and Enthir laid it out on the table. He began to run his finger down the page, his eyes moving quickly. His lips curved into a frown. "I have no idea what this man in writing…"

My shoulder sunk. Karliah's face dimmed.

"…luckily your lover left me with a translator, Karliah," Enthir continued chuckling. "Or should I call you, _My Little Nightingale?_" At this, Karliah's dark face flushed with a deep red shade.

"Enthir, please," Karliah said modestly, trying to hide some of the infatuation still left inside her. I was amazed. After all these years, she still managed to love Gallus, even if he was long gone from the physical world.

"Alright, alright. I won't talk about that again," Enthir assured her. He had already taken a scroll out from a collection of his scrolls at the back of the cellar. He unraveled the scroll to reveal a codex that had the translation of the lettering. "Now, listen here. The language it's written in is Falmer. I was given this document twenty-five years ago, a few months before Gallus died. He told me it would be very important in the future, and now it's been proven so. Your Guild Master knew exactly what was coming to him. And…according to this entry…hmm…it's very intriguing and highly disturbing. It says here that Gallus had been suspicious about Mercer Frey's allegiance for months. Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls… 'an unduly lavished lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures'…"

_Pleasures._ He was just like my father.

"Does this journal say where his wealth came from?" asked Karliah.

"Yes," Enthir said flipping through the pages. "It says here that Mercer Frey had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury."

"Anything else, Enthir? Anything about…the Nightingales?"

"Hmm…" the bosmer said, squinting his eyes. "The last few pages seem to describe the 'failure of the Nightingales', although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also mentioned that he believes that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Yes, so it's really true then…" Karliah said, looking to the ground in disbelief.

"Karliah, what is the Twilight Sepulcher? What has Mercer done this time?"

"I'm sorry, it's highly confidential," Karliah told him. "What's important is that we deliver your translation to the Guild immediately. Farewell, Enthir…words can't express…"

"It's alright, Karliah. You don't have to say a word," Enthir stopped her. And then he turned and looked at me. "Listen, girl. All I want is the truth to be revealed to the Guild. They respected her, and she deserves better. Do whatever you can, and I'll consider it a personal favor."

"Thank you, too, Enthir," I said, smiling.

Karliah came to my side and cupped my shoulder. "We must hasten to Riften before Mercer can do any more damage to the guild."

"Gallus mentioned the Twilight Sepulcher. What is it?" I asked her.

The dark elf sighed deeply. "Well, you've come this far, so I see no harm in concealing it any longer. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple of Nocturnal in Skyrim, and it's the very one we Nightingales defend with all our lives. This is what I have been telling you about: Mercer's betrayal to our patron. Frey broke our oath. He defiled Lady Nocturnal herself and used his Nightingale powers for something other than protection. He killed Gallus, his fellow Nightingale, using Nocturnal's gift. That in turn, would have left her greatly displeased with him."

"Thieves an temples? This doesn't seem to add up…" I was confused, least to say.

"This is exactly how I felt when Gallus first revealed these things to me. I know these things all sound so strange and foreign to you, but you are going to have to trust me."

"Alright, we'll do things your way, for now…" There was just something in her tone that seemed a bit off. But I had no choice.

"We'll make for Riften, and we'll scout for Mercer's situation. When everything is set, meet me in the Ragged Flagon," Karliah said, looking at me earnestly. "And when the time comes, we'll have to face him again. I hope you gather up the remainder of your strength for that, Solir."

"This isn't just your battle anymore, Karliah," I said, gripping the hilt of my sword. The elven blade was chiming with battle lust. "It's mine, too, and the Guild's."


	20. The Truth

**Chapter 20: The Truth **

Riften was awfully silent that night. Most nights, it was serene, but this quiet was almost ominous. The only structure that seemed to glow brightly was The Bee and the Barb in the heart of the city. As I traversed through the wooden walkways, I tried my best to spot any Thieves Guild members, but luck had evaded me. Sapphire wasn't at her usual hangout by the log bridge, and Thrynn wasn't at the marketplace fishing for pockets. I had started to get paranoid—extremely paranoid. Even the slightest footfalls seemed to alarm me.

I crossed a walkway to the tavern, and peeked into one of its windows. Keerava the Innkeeper and her husband, Talen-Jei were busy brewing drinks for a group of nord who had occupied the bar table. The father and son duo were seated at the corner of the tavern area, still debating over some seemingly important matter. But Marcurio was nowhere in sight. I tried looking for him a second time in a different window, but he really was not there. I was about to make my way down to the lower level of the city, when someone came bursting out of the door like a popped champagne cork.

"Out! Out with you, pig!" the voice of a woman cried sharply. "And don't come back until you've paid off all your debts!"

The figure fumbled forward and fell to the ground. The doors of the gate swung and creaked wildly. The figure's tankard slipped out of its hands, and the liquid inside it spilled all over the ground. When the doors had stopped swinging and the silence of the night had engulfed the last remnants of the ratchet, the figure still remained on the ground, suspended in a position of defeat. I edged closer, squinting my eyes, trying to figure out who it was. I realized I had known that person very well. "Marcurio?"

The figure angled its head at me. The warm glow from The Bee and the Barb outlined his profile, and I only got assurance that it was that same mage. I immediately lent him my arm. He held on to it, supporting his weight on me for a second just to bolster himself up. "Solir…?"

He smelled of strong drink. His robes were wet with sweat. His hair was a complete mess. Upon further inspection of his face, I noticed he had a few bruises on his cheek and jaw. "What on Nirn happened to you?" I asked him in a grave voice.

"You left me, that's what happened!" Marcurio replied bluntly. His bloodshot eyes spoke nothing but the truth. "You damn thief…_hic_!"

"Oh divines," I sighed. I helped him to the nearest bench. When he had finally seated and regained some of his sanity, he looked up at me with a look that was both filled with anger and remorse. "Look, Marcurio…"

"You're pretty lucky_ hic!_ that you're still…alive right now," he said in a rasp voice. "I estimated that without me, you…would have lasted…_hic!_ a total of thirty-six minutes…"

"I've managed on my own before," I commented, inspecting his marks even further. "Marcurio, listen to me…" It took me a bit more strength and a little less pride to say what I did after. "I'm sorry it had to end like this…" I looked away in shame.

There was a momentary pause. I was expecting that he would not say anything, but I had gotten a reply. "I'm sorry too, Solir," he said a soft, aged voice. "I shouldn't…I shouldn't have provoked you like that. I shouldn't…have meddled in your _hic!_ affairs. Sometimes it just gets over my head, y'know—all this follower business. I sometimes forget that I'm not…the leader. Forgive me."

Our eyes met. Then, a certain silence took over us all. And for a moment, the fear inside me had been stripped away. His mouth opened a bit, as if he were to say something, but he closed his lips and looked away.

"I wish we could have met in better circumstances," I confessed. He looked at me with widened eyes. I stood up, and then frowned. "Marcurio, I have to leave…the situation's getting worse—"

I had began to turn the other way, when a hand grabbed my wrist. "—Solir, wait!" the Imperial man exclaimed. He gulped, and fluttered his eyelashes. "Um…Err…Good luck with everything. Can we…still be…friends?" He showed his nice, white teeth.

"Friends?" I echoed him. I paused for a moment. I nodded, and smiled faintly. "Yes, friends. Thank you." And with that I set off, running through the darkness. Taking one look back, I saw Marcurio waving his hand, smiling at me warmly.

* * *

When I had reached the Ragged Flagon, it was empty. No one was was there, not even its owner, Vekel the Man. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of dripping water and the flow of the canal that ran under the tavern. Most of the torches were unlit, and the crates had been stashed in some other place. My heart started to pump vigorously. Marcurio had distracted me from the real problem. I looked into the darkness, and found Karliah waiting by the back door to the cistern.

"Over here, Solir!" she exclaimed. "They've barricaded the door to the cisterns."

I ran over to the dunmer. "What will we do?"

"I'm going to kick the door open. Then we meet your fellow thieves," Karliah explained. She had started to glow a bright red shade. "Are you ready to face them?"

I nodded. With one quick breath, I said. "Alright. Let's do it."

_Smash!_ The dunmer kicked the heavy wooden door and burst through it. It was a short walk to the cistern, but at the end of the tunnel there were three figures guarding the entrance. The tallest one in the middle was Brynjolf. To his right was the bald and blocky Delvin and to his left the pale and lean Vex.

We approached them with much caution. I walked a few steps ahead of Karliah, keeping my hand to my side if ever I had needed to the draw my blade. Vex was already standing in a lunging position, her face red with anger.

"You better have a damn good reason to be with that murderer," Brynjolf spat.

"Please, lower your weapons so we can speak," Karliah said calmly, putting her bow down slowly. "I have proof that you've all been mislead!"

Vex could bare it no longer. She sprinted forward and lunged at the elf woman, quickly drawing out her dagger in mid-air, ready to swoop down like a falcon does to a prey. She would have hurt Karliah had I not rammed into her. Without thinking I had sacrificed myself for the Dark Elf. I tackled Vex with strong force, keeping her down. She was wriggling and struggling greatly, the little blade still in her hand.

"Stop it! She's telling the truth!" I cried.

"You traitor!" Vex yelled, as she drove my hand that cuffed her armed hand towards my arm. The tip of the dagger managed to slash my skin. Some blood welled out just above my elbow.

My face contorted as I felt the sting. "I'm no traitor! Mercer is!" My trembling hands pushed away Vex's weapon. My eyes went from her to Brynjolf, then back to Vex. "Please, Brynjolf, listen to what she has to say."

Brynjolf's green eyes narrowed and he frowned. He looked at Karliah. "Alright, no more tricks, Karliah, or I'll cut you down where you stand. Now, what's this so called proof you speak of?" And he sheathed his weapon, and then placed his hands on his waist.

I pushed Vex away. She got up to her feet after falling lightly on her bottom. She dusted herself, shooting me a vexed look. She breathed a soft curse.

There was no time to waste. Without hesitation, Karliah drew out the leather book from her satchel. She walked towards Brynjolf and said. "I have Gallus' journal. I think you'll find its contents disturbing…"

"Let me see." The Nord thief snatched the book out of her hands and opened it, letting the pages fan out. It was Gallus' writing, in some other language. Enthir's translations were placed as footnotes. "No…it can't be…" His eyes were still panning the page. He was in so much denial. "This can't be. I've known Mercer too long…"

"It's true, Brynjolf, every word," Karliah told him assuredly. "Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years, right under your noses."

Brynjolf paused for a moment, looking blankly into space with utter disbelief. After a few seconds, he turned his head to Delvin and said. "There's only one way to find out if the lass is telling the truth. Delvin, go open the Vault."

"Wait just a blessed moment, Bryn," Delvin chirped, reaching into his pocket. He turned around and started making for the vault. The two other Thieves Guild members followed behind him. Vex was keeping a close watch on Karliah and I. "Well, what 'id the book say?"

"It says Mercer's been stealing from our vault for years, and Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered," Brynjolf explained.

"How can 'e open a vault that 'as two keys?" asked Delvin, confused. "It's impossible. Could 'e 'ave picked 'is way in?"

"That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy," Vex commented. "There's no way he it can be picked open."

"He didn't need to pick the lock," Karliah muttered.

Brynjolf and Delvin turned around, arching their eyebrows.

"What's she on about?" Delvin asked, laughing haughtily.

By this time we had reached the Vault. The bronze doors of the safe were definitely as hard as they come. Rune had told me once that the cistern had been compromised by a bandit disguised as a guild member. He had tried to steal from the vault by using magic runes, but even magicka could not work on it. So how on Nirn could Mercer have broken through the world's toughest safe?

"Okay, I've used my key. But's the vault is tigh'er than a drum," Delvin shrugged, putting his big bronze key back in his pocket. He looked to Brynjolf. "Now use yours."

The redheaded Nord walked slowly up to the Vault. I could hear his heavy breathing from a mile away. He drew the second key, a large silver one, and slipped it into the keyhole. The vault clicked. The little pipes that crossed the wall started to rotate and turn, and later the door split, revealing the inside of the chamber. I could see Brynjolf run inside, looking aimlessly around him. In a panicked voice, he cried out. "By the Eight! It's all gone. Everything's gone! Get in here, everyone!"

We all ran into the safe. What Brynjolf had been talking about was true. "The gold, the jewels, it's all gone," Delvin said breathlessly.

Every chest, every crate that once was filled with riches was completely emptied out. Vex ran to a chest at the back of the room and fell to her knees. She reached into the large, oak-wood box and sifted her hand through the hay in hopes of finding something that Mercer had not stolen. But he didn't leave a single item. "My stones of Barenziah…I worked so hard to find all of them…" And for the first time, Vex's hardened face began to warp into one of defeat. She shielded her face with her hands and started to sob.

Brynjolf approached her and rubbed her back.

Vex lifted her now red eyes. "That son-of-a-bitch, I'll kill him!" She yelled, flustered. The monster suddenly retreated back into her. She took out her sword and started hacking it senselessly at her chest. Wood split and splintered. Hay and dust took to the air. Delvin had to restrain her. "Let go of me, you pervert!"

"Vex, stop! Put that thing away, now!" Brynjolf ordered. "We can't afford to lose our heads. We have to stay calm and focus."

"Do wha' 'e says, Vex. It ain't 'elping 'im right now," Delvin said in a calm voice, still struggling against the woman's uncontrollable rage. It was like trying to control an berserk giant.

Vex managed to cool down a few moments later. "Fine," she hissed, sheathing her weapon. She looked at Brynjolf "We'll do it your way. For now." She was nothing but a wounded dragon, breathing fire and nothing else.

Brynjolf nodded in contentment. "Delvin, Vex…watch the Flagon. If Mercer returns, come and tell me right away," he commanded them. Then he turned to me. "And Solir. We need to speak. _Alone_." His eyes went from me to Karliah.

Karliah understood what he meant. She bowed lightly and exited the room along with Vex and Delvin. Brynjolf guided me to the back of the room, where our voices were eaten up by the sound of rushing water beneath us. The man had inherited the air of a king. He had to be Guild Master for now, since Brynjolf was second in command. "Look, lass," he started, looking around to check if anyone was still in the area. "Before I have you track Mercer, you need to tell me everything you know about Karliah. I mean _everything_."

"Mercer killed Gallus. Not Karliah," I said.

"Aye, that's what I feared," Brynjolf frowned. "From that last entry, it seemed that Gallus was already close to exposing Mercer to the Guild. Anything else?"

"Gallus, Karliah and Mercer were all Nightingales."

"What? Nightingales? But I assumed they were all just a tale. Something to keep the young footpads in line. Anything else?"

"No, that's all…"

"Then, I have an important task for you," Brynjolf said, folding his arms. "I need you to break into Mercer's home and search for anything to tell us where he's gone."

"He has a house in Riften?" I asked.

"Aye. A gift from the Black-Briars after they kissed the last family out," Brynjolf replied. "A place called 'Riftweald Manor'. He never stays there, just pays for its upkeep. Hired some lout by the name Vald to keep an eye on it."

I paused for a moment. "Alright. I'll do it," I said resolutely. "For the Guild."

"Be careful, lass. It's the last place in Skyrim I'd ever want to send you to," Brynjolf told me worriedly. Just find a way in, get the information and then leave. And you have permission to kill anyone that stands in your way. Now, I've only been to the manor a few times, and that was in Mercer's presence. If you can get pass his watchdog, your best bet would be the balcony on the second floor in his backyard. Here, take this invisibility potion. It could be of help to you. And good luck."

Brynjolf took out a crystal bottle from inside his armor. I thanked him and placed it in my satchel. I turned around and started to walk out of the vault. In the distance, I saw Karliah walk over to Mercer and they spoke to each other. The Nord looked at her and spoke modestly, while Karliah responded good-naturedly. Niruin came over to me and complimented me about my braveness, and I denied it. Vex was in the corner with Tonilia, and when I passed by them the pale woman glared at me, but this time with softness in her stare. She was still broken.

"Solir, wait!" someone exclaimed. I turned around to see Delvin Mallory hobbling over towards me. When he met me, he bent down to catch his breath. Holding a hand up to his chest, he spoke. "I've go' it!"

"Got what…?" a sudden pang jolted down my chest. At once I knew what he was going to say. And for once, I wished that he would have had given me news of something else.

"Wha' you requested," Delvin said, passing me a little piece of paper. "I've tracked down your father's caravan."


	21. Tables Turned

_Author's Notes:_

_Hey guys! Here is the next chapter! Hope you guys are enjoying it so far. Just a quick heads up: I won't be updating the story so frequently now because I'm constantly traveling now. Doing quests, becoming an adventurer. (Protect your knees!) But I promise that they will be really good quality when it does come up on . Oh, and for those who are wondering how to pronounce Solir's name, it's actually so-LEER...not SOLE-err. Anyway, you can read it in your mind any way you want. And keep those reviews coming, that would be lovely! :3_

_Airbendergal_

* * *

**Chapter 21: Tables Turned**

"Marcurio."

The mage raised his eyes slowly. Still on the bench where I last saw him, he sat in a still-defeated stance. All his confidence had been stripped away from him, and what was left was the shell of a sad man. At the sight of me, there was a glint in his eye. His head turned up, his nose almost pointing to the sky. "Solir, you're back," he said, his eyes glassy.

"We have to leave, now," I told him. "Let's go."

"If it's more thieves work, you can count me out," he spat.

"It's not about the Guild," I retorted. "It's about my father. They've found his caravan."

Marcurio's amber eyes widened. "Since you've paid your fee recently, then I guess it's alright to join you," he assured himself, standing up. He dusted his robes, and then his hands. Cupping his left hand into the air, little sparks started to birth from it. "Alright. Lead the way."

We took off on Savihk and made our way for Whiterun. Marcurio was silent for the first part of the trip, and I could sense the skepticism that permeated from him. We rode through the yellow trees, gliding across the highroad, the muffled gallops echoing under us. "You're awfully quiet," I commented, hoping to get an answer.

"That's because I'm coming up with a good reason to why you suddenly decided to turn your back on the Thieves Guild," Marcurio said, making tighter his arms around my waist. He leaned closer. "Why did you betray them?"

"I didn't betray them," I replied, glancing back at him. "This won't take so long. They won't even notice I'm gone."

"I do hope you're right about that," Marcurio said in a sour note.

"But this isn't the biggest news in the Guild," I continued. "Our own master betrayed us. Mercer Frey fled the Ragged Flagon with all the riches locked up in the Vault. He used his Nightingale powers to break into the Vault unnoticed."

"Nightingale? What's a Nightingale?"

"It's a long story," I said, steering the horse rightwards so we could cross a bridge. The dirt then turned into polished stone. "This Karliah woman is actually the good guy. She had been framed by Mercer himself. Now we're off to find him. We actually visited the College of Winterhold…" And I looked back and saw him flinch.

"Winterhold, you say? Never been a really good place," Marcurio commented. His tone was flat, uninterested. "Snow there all the time."

"Did you study there?" I asked him, though I had already known the answer.

"Yup," the mage nodded, grimacing. "But I bet you already knew that, didn't you?" He poked his finger into my side. I slapped his hand off where his pointer dented my armor.

"Alright, fine." The man had seen through my act. "I've met a few people there. They told me you dropped out of the college. Why?"

The horse had glided into a stop on the bridge.

"Not the greatest story," Marcurio said, looking away. "But you've told me your story, but I'll tell you mine. You know, my family's never been the best family in the world. Father and my brothers are all in the military, fighting for the Legion, and my mother's in Cyrodiil running our business. They never really valued the Arcane Arts. Said it was a waste of time. But I loved magic. I heard the College of Winterhold was the best there was in Tamriel. So I told my parents I'd be off fighting for the Legion in Skyrim. I went to the College instead. Taught myself everything I could, and I was doing so damn well. And then, after two years of constant lying to my entire family, my brother found out that I was studying instead of swordfighting. He told my father and mother, and they were greatly angered. I never had the gusto to go back to the college again. I dropped out, called it a day, and went to Riften hoping all my problems would be solved…but all that drinking, spending the money that my mother sends me every month…it's all for naught. All I've been doing was running away."

There was a silence. At this, I felt sympathy for the mage. Who knew that behind the façade of the great Marcurio was a broken man. He was running away, just as I did. We were all runners: Karliah, Marcurio, even Mercer. We all wanted to run away from our problems, hide our real selves in the shadows and hopefully make others see the side we want them to see. Marcurio wanted to be a wizard who stuns all, but in the end he stunned himself. I wanted to be great and trustworthy to the Guild so they could lend me their hand, but when they did I took advantage of it used it for my own selfish reasons.

"Solir, we have to get going," he urged. "The sun will be up soon."

That was when I realized we had not gotten anywhere at all. I looked down at Savihk, patient and docile as a lamb. "You're more than you're worth, Marcurio," I told him, hoping to get his confidence back. A man with no purpose in life can't fight. "You're the greatest wizard companion for me." I grabbed the reins and jerked them backward. The horse reared and kicked the air in front of it. The started in a fast trot, and then turned into a mad dash. The wind was blowing in our faces, our cheeks rippling from the airstream.

Marcurio was silent yet again, but not for the same reasons as before. Now this silence was one of contentment. I could see from my side vision a little smile crawling up his thin lips. "Thank you, Solir," he said in the most honest voice I had ever heard from him. "And you're the best…erm…never mind." And after that he followed it off with a little chuckle.

* * *

By the time we had reached the Whiterun plains, the sun was just above the Jerall Mountains. We took the southern road, as Delvin had plotted on the piece of paper he gave me. It was a map with the route of my father's caravan marked in deep green ink. The dotted line that stretched from Riften to Helgen was the route we were to take. There was a point of intersection between the two lines, and that place was the place we had to be in at exactly the right time to catch Scipio. We rode to the top of a gorge. Below us was a crack in the earth, the highroad from Helgen to Whiterun. This is where the carriage would supposedly pass. We waited there for hours, hungry and cold.

"Aren't you worried about the people you left behind?" Marcurio asked.

I looked at him, guilty. "I am, a bit," I admitted. The last part though, was a lie. I had worried about them too much. Now I was torn apart between Mercer and my father. Mercer could have gotten off to anywhere right now, but so can my father. If I didn't catch him now, we would miss the only opportunity to kill him where he stands. If he had gotten back to the Imperial City, it would take strength and too much time to get there and slash him in his bed. This job had to be done quickly, and in time to get back to Riften.

I supposed killing my father would be just like killing another person. It may have sounded easy to say at first, but I could never really condition myself to do it that time. I was distracted with all the chaos the Theives Guild had given me. It was as if I had to solve all their problems myself. It was as if I was their leader, as if I was a Thief Queen. They would be disappointed when I returned, that was for certain, but I was hoping and praying to the Divines that their reaction would not be so harsh.

"This cold is unbearable," Marcurio complained, rubbing his hands together and shoving them under his armpits. "I'd rather be sitting next to a hearth with a belly full of mead."

I nodded in agreement. I turned around and peered over a boulder. I saw the bottom of the gorge, but the road was empty. The path was trekked by a few elks and foxes, but nothing else. I went back to my original position and leaned on the boulder. Marcurio edged closer, curling up into a ball. "Come close, we can share heat," he opened his arms, beckoning me to be embraced.

"Are you joking? No!" I exclaimed. "We need to focus."

"How can you focus when it's freezing cold?" Marcurio retorted. "Fine, I won't give you my special hug. Just sit here so it'll be a lot warmer."

At this, I agreed. I moved over next to the mage, putting my side against his. And it did feel warmer, but only by a bit. My hands were still freezing, and I was rubbing them terribly. "That caravan should be around the corner by this time, Delvin said," I told Marcurio, my breath drawing white wisps. I could feel his torso moving up and down as he breathed heavily. "According to this thing, the Ezelino Armaments is making a delivery to the Jarl Balgruuf. My father delivers the weapons himself. He says it's good for customer relationships. If this thing is really telling the truth, then he'll be here, and soon."

Just on cue, we heard the clippity-clap of horses' hooves and the sound of creaking wood. We both got to our knees and crawled towards the edge of the cliff, and peered down into the gorge. A single caravan was making its way through the highroad, its canvas carriage cover plowing in the wind. The carriage wobbled side to side, and the tired-looking horse walked with unsteady footing. My heart stopped when I saw our company's logo on the side of the carriage. The Ezelino Armaments seal, a dragon with a sword in its mouth.

"That's it, my father's carriage," I pointed. I was breathless. "You remember what the plan is?"

Marcurio nodded. "Yes. Just give me the go signal."

We stood up at the same time. Marcurio took his position at the edge of the gorge, while I rode with Savihk to make my way to where the mouth of the gorge opened up into the Whiterun plains. I galloped fast down the hill, almost carelessly. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins. I put on my Thieves Guild hood. I was conditioning myself to kill Scipio Ezelino.

I drove the horse right into the middle of the highroad to block the incoming carriage. It was still distant, but I noted that it was a man driving the caravan, which was good. The vehicle slowed down, to a point where it looked like it wasn't moving. Quickly, I drew a coin purse from my side and scattered gold around me. Gold. The very thing that lead to his downfall, would now lead him to his death.

"Now!" I yelled. My voice echoed into the gorge.

A firebolt flashed down from the sky. Like a meteor, it fell, and crashed into the caravan. The flames licked the canvas, tearing and reducing it into ash. I rode with full speed into the deluge, jumping over a line of fire and into the circle of inferno. The carriage driver tried to flee, running over to the back of the cart, but I pursued him. The dark figure circled the cart, grabbing a molten long sword from the smolder. He raised it up and swung it at me, but I quickly dodged it. Taking out my elven sword and I lunged at him, but he parried and counterattacked. The heat was consuming us now. I hooked his leg with my foot and yanked it forward. He fumbled backwards, and I mounted him, quickly putting my sword to his neck. "Scipio Ezelino!" I cried, the words almost exploding from my mouth.

"Please…don't kill me!" pleaded the carriage driver.

My heart sunk when I realized his voice was far from my father's. I lowered my eyes to get a better view of the driver. My eyes widened. It was definitely not my father, but one of our workers. He was Markus, the frail and lanky smelter boy, barely in his teens. This was no monster. "Where is Scipio?"

Fear was pouring out of his dark eyes. "H-He had to t-turn around to c-collect the second b-b-batch…" Markus stuttered, as tears inched down the sides of his face. "Please d-don't kill me. I d-d-don't want to die!"

"What second batch?" I asked, still trying to keep an air of a bandit. "Answer!"

"J-Jarl Balgruuf ordered s-seven carts of swords," the now pale boy replied. I pulled the sword two inches back so he had more room to breathe. "S-said a civil w-war is coming and that W-Whiterun had to b-be r-r-ready…"

"A war?" I said, confused.

All the frightened boy could do was nod. "P-Please, d-don't kill me!" he repeated over and over again like an incessant buzz.

I stood up, and the boy wriggled out under my legs. He was bloodied and soiled, and he had told me enough. I was losing my patience, and fast. I was devastated that my father was not there.

A rage unlike any other started to form n me, as if the dragon souls themselves had awoken inside of me. I grabbed Markus' tunic, and lifted him up, and tossed him aside with inhuman strength. The frail boy rolled across the ground, putting out flames. The burning cart, ablaze in the middle of the road, stood there as the one and only representation of my father. "**FUS RO DAH!**" The voice unleashed a massive blue wave that wiped out the caravan. It rippled across the passage, making the ground shake. The large cart tumbled across the road, and the horse along with it, neighing wildly. The weapons went flying into the air. The fires blew out at an instant. When the sonic boom's last sounds had trailed away, a great ditch was left in its wake, leaving a disastrous scene that only a hurricane could have made.

I fell to the ground, sobbing. Hot tears welled out of my eyes. My trembling hands dug into the dirt. I was furious, and more than that, overwhelmed by the emotions that rained down on me like a hailstorm.

Anger and revenge.

Was it really worth it?


	22. The Confession

**Chapter 22: The Confession**

Riftweald Manor towered over most of the stone mansions in the Riften residential district. I had remembered passing by this house before, and remarking its great beauty, but I had never known it had belonged to Mercer. The manor was well up-kept. The windows were free of blemish and the stone was polished. The wooden doors showed no scars, and the lawn was shaved. There, standing behind the backdoor of the mansion was the guard that Brynjolf told me about. It was Vald, large and bald, holding a large axe in his hands, standing ever alert behind the black bars of the gate.

"Oy! Who goes there!" he shouted out as Marcurio's robes stroked against the hedges and made a rustling sound. "Show yourself!"

We became silent. I, shooting the mage an irritated look, and him, shrugging and making a sour face.

"Must be my imagination," Vald muttered to himself. I could see the large shadow turn around and face the mansion. That gave us time to make it to the gate. I took the bars of the gate and rattled them. The hound turned around, his nostrils flaring. "I knew it! You pesky rats! Out with you, all of you! You're not supposed to be here."

"Leave this one to me," Marcurio whispered into my ear. He stepped in front of me and cleared his throat. He smiled at Vald, and greeted him. "Well good morrow, dear sir! We're here on behalf of our patron."

"What?" Clearly the hound could not comprehend. "Say that again?"

"I _said,_ we're here on behalf of your patron, you dim-witted fool," the Imperial man repeated with a great amount of satire.

"I ain't no fool!" Vald exclained. "And I don't know who Patron is! So just get out before I slam your skull against my master's wall!"

"Very well, but I do suppose your master wouldn't be so pleased when he realizes that you killed the people he was to meet with," Marcurio sighed, taking out a bag of coins and waving it in front of Vald's face. The sound of chiming septims seemed to catch the hound's attention. "Mercer Frey said he'd meet us today."

"Well he ain't here," Vald said, his tongue hanging out a bit. He was looking at the coi purse covetously.

"Where is he, then?" the mage asked.

Vald snapped out of his gaze. His eyes narrowed. "Can't tell you," he said curtly.

"Oh, that I'm sure of. You can't tell me any of your master's secrets, and you are bound to him by an oath of confidentiality. But I'm sure the king can change your mind." And with that, Marcurio drew out pieces of golden coins. He reached out his hand through the gate. Instinctively, Vald reached out his own hand and watched in silence as the Septim king's many faces landed in his palm. "A hundred and twenty gold pieces."

A bribery attempt. I palmed by blade slowly. The outcome of this would be uncertain. Marcurio still stood there, as sure and confident as he was in his skills. Vald stared down at his hand full of septims. He started nodding his head slowly, as if agreeing with something. He looked up at the mage and bared his crooked, yellow teeth at Marcurio. "I can work with that," he said in an interested tone.

"Good," the wizard nodded. He turned around and faced me. "Your turn."

I stepped forward and pressed my face against the black bars of Riftweald Manor. Vald stared at me with undivided attention. "Where has Mercer Frey gone off to?" I asked him.

"I don't know," Vald replied.

I felt a stab of disappointment. Yet it did not dampen my spirits. "Let us into Mercer's mansion," I ordered him.

"I can let you in, but the house is locked. You'll have to find a way through." Vald motioned me to step back and so I did. He took a large metal key from his pocket and jabbed it into the large lock. The gate swung open. Marcurio and I entered Frey's backyard. We ran up to the second floor using a flight of steps and found ourselves on his balcony. This was what Brynjolf also told me about.

"It's shut tight," I told Marcurio, as I vigorously twisted and heaved at the doorknob. I looked up and around. "There must be some sort of mechanism that can be used to access his house from outside." My eye quickly spotted a pulley device just below the gutter, on the under side of the roof. "There! Marcurio, hit it."

"Alright, got it!" Marcurio nodded. He cupped his hands together to form an ice spike that shot through the air at an impossibly fast speed. The projectile hit the pulley device. Wisps and veils of silver engulfed the machine, crawling up the thick ropes. The mage then followed his attack up with another ice spike. The rope snapped. The cord swung forward and the hit the wall. The second line zipped upwards and the counterweight fell to the floor with a thud. Mercer Frey's balcony door clicked open.

"Nice," I remarked, giving him a smile.

"Leave it to the apprentice wizard!" He chirped, pushing the door open. "Ladies first."

We entered Riftweald Manor through Mercer Frey's bedroom. The house was as huge inside as it was out. We were not surprised to find out that his estate, too, had been emptied. The only things left in his grand manor were the unmovable objects that were too heavy to be transported like the dour master bed, a large snow bear piece hanging above his gossamer-decorated fireplace, and some crates that had nothing inside. We made our way pass the kitchen, where some remnants of a meal were left. The mage and I decided to split in order to double time. We inspected every shelf and inside every book on the first and second floor, but nothing was to be found.

"No luck," I sighed deeply, sitting down on a dusty sofa.

"There is, still," Marcurio corrected, jogging back to me. He pointed to the drawing room. "I found a secret door behind one of the bookshelves. Come on."

I followed him to the bookshelf. The man pushed the furniture aside, to reveal narrow, wooden door. It was locked. I kneeled down and picked the lock. It wasn't easy, but it was doable. I pushed through the door and crawled into the darkness inside it, still on my knees. I felt the ground. Dirt. It was a passageway. Marcurio lit his own palm-flame. The passageway grew in front of us. We traversed it for a few minutes, and ended up in a secret room.

The room was small. The walls and ceiling were made of the earth. Inside of the room was a large vault, which had been emptied. Next to the vault was a table, and to our surprise we found documents scattered all over on it. Notes that had been so carelessly left. Frey was probably in a hurry; perhaps this was the time after Snow Veil Sanctum. I waded through the stack of papers, my eyes shifting vigorously. They were all records of the Vault's treasures, who had stolen it, and where they had stolen it from. He crossed out most of the treasures' names. Towards the end of the stack, there was a log from Mercer himself, and it mentioned something about the Eyes of the Falmer and staging the world's greatest heist. "Okay, let's go," I told Marcurio, who had his back on me. "I've found a lead."

"Would you look at that!" The mage was interested in something else. "Solir, look at that sword."

"What?" I went to his side to see what he had been talking about. Inside a display case at the far end of the room, next to a stairwell, was a great sword crafted out of hard glass. Not only was it shining, but it was giving out mist. The bottom of the glass case was foggy, as if it was… "Freezing. Touch the glass, it's freezing cold."

The mage put his hand under the cover. He jerked it away immediately. "You're right," Marcurio said, shocked. "An ancient sword imbued with enchantment. Solir, you should get it."

"Alright," I said, eager. I knelt down next to the case and picked the lock. The lid of the lock bounced open, and I lifted it slowly. The cold seeped into the air around us. The nameplate, just at the bottom of the platform, held the sword's name. "Chillrend." Hesitantly, I reached for the grip of the sword, thinking it was just as frozen as the rest of the blade, but it was not. I gripped the weapon tightly and drew it out from its case. I practiced the blade, swinging it through the air. White wisps trailed in the sword path's wake.

Just then, there was a grumbling sound. I looked up and found Marcurio pulling down a lever. A crack in the wall started to recede sideways, revealing a new, dark passageway. Inside it was pitch black. "Looks like this is where Mercer escaped. I wonder where it leads," he said, conjuring a flame in his hand. "We should follow it."

I agreed with him. We left the secret room and entered another passageway. I placed the journal entries inside Marcurio's satchel, and he complained a bit about being treated like a packmule. I gave him a dirty look, and he muttered. "Oh very well, just make it quick." The tunnel ran through miles under the city, and as we reached a fork in the road, the sound of running water started to leak through the concrete walls.

"Sounds like we're in the ratway now," I said. "But where should we go?" I looked left and then right. Both tunnels looked like they could be going somewhere, but one of it was possibly a dead end. I palmed the wall infront of us which divided the tunnels, hoping for some clue of where the paths lead. Just then, I felt an embossed line. "Marcurio, shine your light upon the wall face."

He did as told. On the left side of the wall there was a marking. It was a diamond with a circle in the middle. The Thieves Guild insignia. "This is probably how Mercer Frey had been eliciting the goods. The tunnel runs under the cistern." We followed this tunnel, and to our guessing it had done just that. The worst part was, it had ended up right under the Vault itself. I pushed the trap door open, and entered into the safe by myself, while Marcurio remained hidden. Again I was met by the emptied boxes and open chests. I saw Niruin standing by the entrance.

"Solir!" he exclaimed, as we came to meet him. "What? Where did you come from?"

"There's a secret passageway under the vault, it leads to Mercer's man—"

"—lass! You're back!" cut in a voice. "Where were you?"

I looked to my side and found Brynjolf and Karliah coming towards us. There faces were filled with both worry and doubt. "We've been waiting for you, Solir," The Nord thief continued. "We were beginning to think Mercer got to you. Why did you take so long?"

"I…I…" I replied. I had wanted to tell them, but the words couldn't come.

"Mercer is probably half-way across Skyrim right now! There's no way we could track him down," Karliah started, her amethyst eyes now burning with a certain fury. "You knew you had a job, Solir. What caused your delay? Did some of Mercer's allies ambush you? Tell me where they are, and we'll dispatch some people."

"No, nothing like that!" I exclaimed. "I was just…"

"Just _what_?" Brynjolf asked, this time with a hint of irritation in his voice. "_What_, Solir? Well, then, spit it out!"

"Yeah, spit it out!" Vex suddenly echoed him. Like a sabre cat on the prowl, she came out of the shadows. She strutted in, as if she had suddenly reacquired all of her strength and ego. She challenged me. "If you're a true member of the Guild, then you'll tell us the truth. We are, brothers in crime, after all."

Where was this sudden talk of brotherhood coming from? For all this time, she had treated me like trash, leftover food always ready for disposal. This angered me, and with impulse I had taken the bait. "Okay, fine," I breathed, clenching my fist. "You want to know why I took so long? I took a detour to Whiterun."

"Whiterun? Why did you stray off that far?" Brynjolf asked.

"To go after 'er father." This time, Delvin Mallory joined the conversation. All heads turned to him. The blocky Mallory came into the light of the cistern, with a scroll in his hand. "Isn't that right, girlie?"

"Delvin!" Brynjolf hissed. He had broken his oath of silence.

I gulped. My heart began to race. I guess the damage had been done. There was no way of fixing it. The truth had finally been revealed. I looked down in shame. "Y-You're right. It's my fault entirely," I said shakily. "You want the truth? I'll g-give you the truth. You see, I've been trying to track him down for months now. He murdered my mother in cold blood, and he has to pay for what he's done. I came to the Thieves Guild hoping that you could help me find him. And so I did all dirty work this job entailed, every single one, until I could find the answer. I simply wanted to track our family's caravan down. But now things have changed. I want to help the Guild. You have become more than a guild for me. I want to help and put an end to all of Mercer's madness. Forgive me, Karliah. Brynjolf. Everyone else who's here. I'm not actually the protégé that everyone thinks I am. Hell, I'm not even a good thief."

"If you're not a thief, then you're a traitor!" Vex cried out. "A traitor, just like Mercer Frey! You're probably helping him. You've probably been helping him all this time! You could have just been slowing us down! How come he suddenly let you into our guild? Why else could Mercer have chosen you to come with him to Snow Veil Sanctum? And at this time, when we most need you, you disappear and come back with nothing! A traitor, straight from the pits of Oblivion!" She drew out her blade. "A traitor deserves a traitor's death!"

"Stop!" Another voice cried out. This voice was faint, and muffled. To everyone's surprise, Marcurio came out popping from under the Vault. He did not do as he was told. Typical. But for once I was glad he disobeyed me. He was to be my saving grace. "Stop it, all of you! Solir isn't a traitor!"

"Who are you?" Brynjolf asked, drawing out his blade. "Delvin, get the intruder!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Marcurio warned Delvin Mallory as he came with his blade swinging wildly.

The attacking thief tried hacking his long sword at the mage, but his weapon bounced off effortlessly as it hit Marcurio's magic wall. Mallory's body rippled at the recoil. He stumbled backwards, but arched his sword for another swing. Zaps of lightning shot out from the Imperial's free hand, hitting Mallory square on the chest. Delvin shook terribly as the white streaks jumped around his body. He fell involuntarily, and his sword fell out of his hands. "Damn mage…" Delvin muttered, getting into a kneeling position.

"Let me speak!" Marcurio cried out.

"Get rid of your magic, mage, and we'll let you say what you need to," Brynjolf said sternly. His eyes turned from Marcurio to me, and then back to Marcurio. "Who are you, and how did you find our headquarters? Speak!"

At once Marcurio sheathed his hands. "My name is Marcurio, son of General Dacus, and I am a hireling, working for Solir. I've been the one helping her in all of her missions, in fact. And I know all about your little schemes. You know Solir never stops talking about you guys, it's pretty annoying, in fact. She's always boasting to me about the Guild's next great move, and how she _has_ to help you guys get back to your former glory. Solir would never betray you, you thieves. If she were a traitor, then she wouldn't have returned. Now we're back and we have evidence of where Mercer Frey has gone. It's right here in my satchel. If you allow me to get it…"

"You have my permission," Brynjolf nodded.

"Okay, here," Marcurio said, taking out the entries from inside his bag. He passed it to Brynjolf, who snatched it from his hands and began reading it. Karliah went behind him to view the papers as well. The lines on their faces began to disappear. "See, what did I tell you? Solir's no traitor."

"How are you sure these are his papers?" Vex said, looking at the papers as well. "For all you know, it could be forged. Maybe the mage made these himself."

"No, I know Mercer's handwriting. This is definitely his print," Bryjolf said, pointing at the letters. "And look what it says here, it says that he's after the Eyes of the Falmer. That was Gallus' pet project. Divines! Karliah, do you know what that means?"

"If he gets his hands on those jewels, he'll be gone for good and set up for life," Karliah answered, in a weary voice. "He'd be pulling off the greatest heist in the history of the Thieves Guild just as an insult."

"Then he has to be stopped," I cut in curtly. I turned to Brynjolf. "I give you my word, Guild Master, I will give my life to this mission. We have to make haste, for the time that we've already lost."

"That you've lost for us," Brynjolf corrected. His eyes were like steel. "But I agree. Now I've made amendments with Karliah in behalf of the guild. She wants to speak with us. In private."

The other members of the guild started to shift their eyes. I could see the lack of trust in their eyes. Such action was merited for. Their master had betrayed them. Only time could tell who else would betray their group. "Don't give me that look," the redheaded Nord said, addressing the entire guild. "Karliah is no foe. We will honor her as a fellow member of the guild. If anyone objects, then I suggest you speak up now."

There was silence. The thieves started to disperse, one by one, until we were left alone by the master's desk. When the coast was clear, Karliah spoke up. "Brynjolf, the time has come to decide Mercer's fate. The decision falls on you."

"Aye, and I've come to a decision. Mercer Frey tried to kill you both, he betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus, and made us question our future. He needs to die." His last few words were soft, apprehensive.

A spark lit up in the dunmer's eyes. "Then you understand that we need to meet him on equal footing. Mercer is a Nightingale with extraordinary power. In the Falkreath hold there is a path that cuts up to the mountains. There, the Twilight Sepulcher sits, and in it, the Hall of the Nightingales and the Temple of Nocturnal. Solir, Brynjolf, it's time for you to become Nightingales."


	23. The Twilight Sepulcher

**Chapter 23: The Twilight Sepulcher**

The trip to the Falkreath hold was a little less than comfortable. We rode there, and it took a day and a half. We spent the night in an abandoned watchtower. Marcurio offered to start a fire, and Brynjolf let him do so apprehensively. I could feel the splint between the Guild Master and I now. The trust that had taken so long to earn was so easily broken…by me. Whenever I had talked to the both of them, there would be a certain tone to their answering. Cold, short answers. And I couldn't help but break their gazes when they wanted to make a conversation. Marcurio was there as the neutral party, I guess. And he tried to be less snarky, and a little more entertaining. Once in a while he'd share an anecdote about funny tavern fights. Karliah was silent and focused, ever alert, her bow tangled in her arms.

"Tell us more about Gallus, Karliah," Brynjolf started, as he tore apart the bread loaf we had packed for the trip. He took out his knife and smeared some jam on top of his ration. "What was he like?"

"Gallus Desindenius. He was the Guild Master before Mercer. He was an Imperial, like you, Solir," she said, her still eyes turning to me. Her cheeks started to colour. "He was dashing, cunning, and a master thief. He was feared by many, and respected by his fellow guild members. And yet, despite all his devilish traits, he was kind-hearted and loyal. He was a passionate lover, too…"

"Mercer must have been jealous, then, of such a great leader," Brynjolf said, scratching his chin. "I mean, I've known Mercer for most of my thief life. Now I realize, he was a boss, yes, but not so much of a leader. He rarely left his desk, and I was always in charge of dispatching members and doing the heists myself. And when Gallus figured out that Mercer had been stealing from the Vault, he had no choice but to kill his own leader. And Karliah, you've got involved in this…a little too much…"

"Was it because I was his lover?" Her voice was suddenly sharp, like a blade.

"No, not only that, lass. Think about it, Karliah. You are a Nightingale, the perfect person to frame. An anonymous splint of the Guild, Mercer called the Nightingales, and he told us that you were dangerous and sacrilegious. But that's all cleared, and you have amnesty from the Thieves Guild. There's no need to be angered."

"Not angered, frustrated…" she said, releasing a hiss of air. She bent her head, and buried her face in her arms. She pulled herself back up, raising her dark eyes. "But we'll find Mercer, and he's going to pay. I swear it on my life, and on my vow to Nocturnal. Tomorrow, we will be in the Falkreath hold, and I will show you to the Hall of the Nightingales."

The next day we journeyed into Falkreath, passing by the small town. Little log houses dotted forest hills. We traversed deep into the pine woods, crossing a small stream, and ended up at the bottom of a pass that cut up deep into the mountain. Two grand boulders with markings on them greeted us at the entrance. The insignia of the Nightingales, a bird carrying the full moon on the top of its wings, was etched onto the rock faces. "Let us go," Karliah urged us, as she began her ascent into the narrow crack in the mountain.

I nodded, and so did Brynjolf. I turned to Marcurio and ordered him to wait outside and guard the entrance in case any enemy decided to pursue us. He agreed to follow me after a quick argument about my own safety. "Alright, fine. Just be careful not to walk into any spike-filled pits or filthy skeever dens."

Karliah, Brynjolf and I trekked up the mountain path, and came across a cave. On the mouth of the cave, there were writings in Daedric language, which translated into: "Service in the Shadows." Upon further inspection of the cave, one would notice that the walls were not of granite or any earthly, minable material. The walls of the cave were polished, black and shining, like onyx. "Not onyx," Karliah told us. "A whole other mineral foreign to Nirn." And there were glowing purple cyphers that crossed the walls like a fantastic light display. The veins raced across the walls until they reached a door at the end of the cavern. A door that lead us to the Hall of the Nightingales.

Karliah was first to enter, and we followed. The Hall of the Nightingales was an immensely large complex. The first Nightingales had made hollow the mountain, it was said, and constructed the great gathering chamber. In the middle of the chamber was a long, stone table made out of the same stone as the walls, carved out of the mountain itself. The great Nightingale insignia pulsed in bright purple at the back wall of the place. It was beautiful.

"So this is the Nightingale Hall. I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believe it existed," Brynjolf said, his mouth hanging open. "This place…it's surreal, almost frightening…

"What's wrong, Brynjolf?" Karliah asked. "I can almost hear your _brow_ furrowing."

"I'm trying to understand why I'm here. I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why me?" The tone in his voice was grave, showing hints of fright.

"It's not about religion. It's about business," the dunmer retorted. Now, I'll go and get your Nightingale outfits ready. Just give me a moment to find your sizes. Don't set off far from my sight. Who knows what could have made its way in here." And she ran off into one of the smaller rooms.

My attention then turned to the ceiling, where great stalactites were suspended, like an iridescent chandelier in a Jarl's palace. As I was about to marvel in its beauty, I felt a hand to my shoulder. I snapped out of my awed state, and realized that Brynjolf was trying to bring me back to business. "Lass, we have to talk." His voice was still and serious.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart suddenly starting to pump vigorously.

Brynjolf's were green eyes like emeralds. "Look, lass. I'll just go straight to the point. It's about the leadership of the Guild. Because Mercer's abandoned the group, sooner or later, we will need to elect a new Guild Master."

My eyes grew widened. "Brynjolf..." But I had already had a feeling of what he was going to say next. My throat started to constrict, and I gulped painfully. "Brynjolf…I don't understand…"

"Solir, you need to be the next Guild Master." His answer was swift, and he stated it as if it was fact.

"I can't. You're the Guild Master, now, Brynjolf. You are second in command."

"I know I am, lass. But I'm no good as a leader."

"Don't be too modest."

"It's true. Ask anyone. Ask Delvin, Vex, Tonilia, and gods, even ask Niruin. They know I've never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. All I can do is dig into peoples' pockets and pick locks. What the Guild needs is a true leader, Solir, an honest one—a woman that rises to the challenge…" And I guess he was alluding to my little confession a day before. "Look, Solir, you're the one who started getting the Guild back on its feet, and I firmly believe that you, too, are the one who can truly bring it back to its former glory. You are a Thief Queen."

"Brynjolf, we've talked about this before," I said shaking my head. "I'm no thief."

"Lass, just hear me out. You're the last fighting chance that his group has…"

I opened my lips, about to speak a retort, when Karliah returned to us. At first we thought that she was a phantom, all dressed in tight, black armor, her face shrouded in a cowl. The Nightingale insignia was stitched in the center of her chest. In both of her hands were two more Nightingale armors. The draped to the floor like silk, but as I touched it, it was elastic, with the texture of leather.

"Perfect, isn't it? A most fitting attire for meeting the goddess herself," she said. I could picture a smile under the dark hood. "Now listen, pass this chamber, and make your way down the staircase into the shrine of Nocturnal. Mount one of the three platforms, and when the trinity is complete, then she should appear to us."

"I don't want to be toying with the gods, Karliah," Brynjolf commented, coming to a realization that we were truly going to see Nocturnal face-to-face. "There must be some other way to deal with Mercer."

"There is no other way, Brynjolf. Unless you want to die the moment your eyes meet, then we must face Mercer Frey with full Nightingale force. And, with the Dragonborn on our side, we should have nothing to fear."

"The Dragonborn? You don't mean…Solir?" Brynjolf asked, breathless. His head turned slowly to me. I could see his bright teeth behind his sincere grin. I tried to look away, but it was too late. He had already landed his arm on my shoulder. I had no choice but to look him face to face. "See, lass, how perfect this is!" I could not discern whether he referred to the plan to defeat Mercer or my ascension to master.

I gave him a dirty look. Whether it was because of frustration or some other emotion, I did not know. But if I did not give him an answer, he would be persistent, and Brynjolf would keep on asking me over and over again until he would get the answer he wanted. "Fine, I will be guild master, if we get through this ordeal," I told him curtly, just to please him. "Once we beat Mercer."

Brynjolf nodded. "Very well."

In our hearts we knew there would be a great chance that we would not be coming home.

* * *

When both of us had finished changing into our new Nightingale suits, Karliah brought us deeper into the earth, where the walls had started to glow a luminescent green. The ceiling had started to dip, and the passageway became narrower. When the stalactites were low enough to nick Brynjolf's head, we had stopped and came to a barred gate. "Alright, we're here," Karliah told us. "Now is the moment you will meet Nocturnal. Take position on one of the three platforms. I will then summon the goddess. I must ask you to be very careful with your words. She can be ruthless with her judgments. She will show you no remorse."

At this moment, I started to feel nervous. I had never seen a daedra before, much less actually converse with one. Plus, this was Nocturnal, the patron of the Thieves Guild.

We followed Karliah into the atrium. It looked like a downsized, magical version of the cistern: a round stone platform sat in the middle of the room, and was connected to three smaller platforms of the same shape. Magical glyphs ran across the ground, and illuminated as we stepped on it. I took the leftmost platform, and Brynjolf took the rightmost. Karliah was last to step onto her own platform in the middle.

The dunmer raised her arms wide open and in a loud voice cried. "I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow…hear my voice!"

At first there was nothing, and I was beginning to think it was all a farce. Then suddenly, a dazzling blue orb appeared out of nowhere. Its light lit the cavern, creeping into all cracks and crevices of the cave. The magical orb spun and pulsed like the light of a star. "Ah…Karliah," a voice from in it began. "I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?" She spoke cynically.

"My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure," Karliah said in a voice sincere. She got down on one knee.

"You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago..." And the voice paused. "What could you possibly offer me now?"

"I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death," Karliah replied. I shuddered at the word,_ death_. I came to realize that this deal was permanent.

"You surprise me, Karlilah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favor," Nocturnal laughed haughtily. "I cannot wait to see the look on Mercer Frey's face. Especially since a legendary Dovahkiin has come under my service."

Nocturnal knew. It was expected as a daedric prince. I looked up at the ball, wondering if she could see pass my Nightingale armor. I said nothing. I moved nothing. I was as still as a corpse. Watching, and waiting. Karliah then turned to me, and said. "This woman is Solir from Cyrodiil, and the man is Brynjolf of Riften. They have come with us. Our apetite for Mercer's demise exceeds our craving for wealth, Your Grace."

"So it is revenge that you choose? How interesting…" The Lady's voice was playful. "I shall tell you this, Karliah. Mercer Frey has betrayed me, and he has put to shame the Nightingales. He must be put to justice. Travel to Irkngthand. That is where he is. I shall give the new Nightingales half of their power. Defeat Mercer, put an end to him, and they shall receive their full strength. These conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."

"Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels." Karliah got up on her feet. "We will honor our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met."

"Very well…" Nocturnal's light suddenly shined even brighter. Mist started to surge out of the orb, and swirled around the cavern. We were in the middle of a mystic tempest. "I, Nocturnal, name your initiates Nightingales, and I restore your status to the same, Karliah."

A ray of light burst out of the glyph below me, encasing me in a tunnel of light. Strong wind pushed up on me. I felt the warmness kindle inside of me, the same type of warmth from absorbing a word of power. This strength within me, though, did not possess the same, raw power as a Thu'um. Instead it was like the hiss of a fissure, a power contained, still, waiting for the right time to jet out. A silent power, fit for darkness.

"And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again." Nocturnal's voice was regal, resolute. The lights suddenly dimmed. The orb vanished into thin air. There was sudden darkness, but the glowing rocks around us brought the chamber back to an eerie brilliance.

Three of us met back at the center platform, where the insignia of the Nightingales was engraved onto the floor. The air around us was different. Fear no longer lingered within us. We felt bolder than ever. "Now that you've taken the Oath, I think it's time I told you Mercer's greatest crime."

My eyes widened. "You mean he's done more?"

"Yes," Karliah replied. "Aside from emptying out the Guild's vault, Mercer desecrated and stole from the Twilight Sepulcher. He stole one of the temple's greatest treasures: the Skeleton Key. This key can open _any_ lock. That is how he got into the treasury."

Brynjolf gasped. "It all makes sense now…" His hands were now on his head, as if he was crushing his skull. "How could I have been so thick? He used Nightingale magic to open the gates."

Karliah noded. "But it does not limit itself to physical locks. It can break through metaphysical barriers, even unlock the deepest secrets in our mind. That is why we need to retrieve that Skeleton Key from him, and all the other goods from the Guild. He needs to be cut down."

"A power like that…sounds like no one should possess it," I commented. The others nodded their heads in agreement.

"This is the first time I ever set out to return something. It puts a thief to shame," Brynjolf said jokingly. He chuckled a bit. "This is a little bit over our heads."

"Very true," Karliah said. "It's out of our line of work. It's quite rare that we set out to return to a stolen item to its rightful owner."

"It's settled then. We will make for Irkngthand with all haste. It is a day's ride from here," Brynjolf told me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I accepted his gesture. "I suggest that you gather all your strength, lass. This will be a fight to remember!"


	24. Mercer Frey

**Chapter 24: Mercer Frey**

I had counted the days. Three and a half months had passed since my mother's death, and my escape to Skyrim. But it felt more like an eternity. I did not know what would happen next: if we would defeat Mercer, find my father, do both, or none at all. No one could tell if we would come out of this ordeal alive. But I wished very much to do so, so I could continue my search and find Scipio, in order to kill him. This was the strength that drove me into the very pits of Irkngthand.

Dwemer ruins ran across the underworld of Skyrim. It was a place not known to the light. Deep, cavernous paths were home to this race of mer called the _Falmer_. Brynjolf told me about these monsters: how beautiful they once were, and how they were oppressed by fellow elves. Slavery drove them underground, madness even. In time they were corrupted and turned into the very beasts that haunt Nord children in their sleep. Tales of terror haunted the halls of Irkngthand.

Karliah entered the great doors to the dwemer ruins, and then Brynjolf, and then I. Marcurio was last to enter and sealed the door. Immediately the darkness swallowed us. I looked back, at where we entered thinking we would never come out to see the light again. At once my heart's pace started to quicken. Marcurio used his magic to light the way.

"Do you remember this place, Karliah?" asked Brynjolf, as we traversed down some rocky steps, negotiating the uneven terrain.

"Yes, I do," the elf replied. Her eyes peered into the darkness. Perhaps she could see through the black, I wondered. She didn't look back at Brynjolf as she replied. "The Nightingales tried to infiltrate this place once. We heard a rumor of this great, towering statue of a Snow Elf, completely made of gold, and embedded in its eyes are two of the largest diamonds on Tamriel. They are known as the Eyes of the Falmer. Of course, we were drawn to this rumor and we decided to check it out ourselves. We travelled the same course. But we were stopped."

"By what?" asked Marcurio. He fires in his hand pulsed. He was curious.

"A metal monster. A dwarven centurion, standing over seven feet, the guardian of the Irkngthand sanctuary. The Falmer are cadaverous creatures with strong sword arms and even stronger armor. But don't be fooled: they are dumb and slow. What one needs to be worried about are the machinations left by the ancient dwarves. They have souls. They are animunculi."

I gulped.

"Do not fret," Karliah pressed on. "We are protected by the darkness. We are Nightingales."

We continued down into the ruins. Polished white stone bridges dipped into the heart of the earth. Some stone huts with grilled bronze gates were erected from the pathways, while other were carved out of the cave wall itself. A whole labyrinth of connections winding up and down and sideways. And there, standing watch by the first hut we had laid our eyes upon was a Falmer. A guard no doubt. The nightmares of the Nord children were true. It was as gruesome as the stories themselves.

The Falmer was thin and pale, a chalky color. Its skin was shriveled and its head elongated. Long, sharp elf ears pointed to the sky, and eye sockets had receded into its skull. It could not see, but it could sense heat and sound. The Falmer guard donned a thick armor had out of what seemed to be a creature's exoskeleton. The sword in its hand was sharp and spiny.

"I'll take care of this," Karliah whispered, crouching. Her footsteps were silent as she edged closer to the blind monster. My breathing was even louder than her footing. Quickly and nimbly, she drew her bow and reached back to her quiver. A long, dark arrow with a glowing tip was leveled to the creature. With the blink of an eye, the Falmer gave out a dying breath as it fell to the ground. A pool of black blood welled out of where he landed.

"Woah," Marcurio said. "So this is the bad guy you were telling me about? She's not bad after all!" I hissed at him for being too loud, and he snickered nervously before shying away behind Brynjolf.

"Come lass, let's move," the Nord thief beckoned, keeping low and moving swiftly across the bridge. The mage and I followed suit. The little bits of rock and dust were slipping beneath us, creating a sort of veil that hovered a little above our feet. "Careful now, you don't want to be slipping off. It's a long way down."

I looked down, despite my instinct telling me not to do so. I found myself staring into a deep, dark void. The dwemer ruins had faded into the gloom. I kicked a small rock off the bridge, and it fell down. I was hoping to hear it hit the ground with a _tchk_, but I never heard anything. My eyes widened, and my lungs began to constrict. I soon realized I was acrophobic. I quickened my pace, passing Brynjolf and the dead Falmer, and ran for Karliah on safer ground. I placed a hand to my chest, deeply breathing. The dunmer passed me a worried look, but I assured her I was alright.

Brynjolf came trotting towards me once he reached the other end of the bridge, and clapped my back. "You alright, lass?" I nodded. "Good. Let's get going." He seemed awfully concerned right now, especially for me.

Then came Marcurio, with a cheeky smile slapped across his face. "Nice. And you're supposed to be the Dragonborn? My goat is braver than you," he commented jokingly. "Well…lead the way, Karliah."

"Alright," the dunmer said. She pointed into the tunnel ahead. "We just need to get through this workshop, and we should find ourselves in the belly of the Falmer hideout. We wiped out the monsters here, but who could say if there were some that were hiding. They could have re-spawned, and done so quickly."

We continued into the workshop, a lab where the dwemer supposedly worked on their animunculi, half-machine, half-beast hybrids that they shepherded. The dwemer seemed to be an advanced race, with all the machinations and technology in the hands. Bryjolf told me it was a shame that their race had been wiped out a long time ago, and I concluded it was by the Falmer. But maybe it was not. Rows and rows of stone tables were lined across the hall. Some had machines that looked like spiders on them. Pipes ran across the ceilings, and little white wisps were drawn where the pipe cracks gave a hiss. Golden gears turned and gauges ticked. Bronze shelves were lined with gizmos and scrap metal. "All of these things could be brought up to the surface and be sold for a great price," I told Brynjolf.

"That would be a good idea," Brynjolf smiled. "But unfortunately, the city of Markarth has already started the Dwemer trade. The Jarl leads excavations deep into the mountains of the Reach, into the dwarf city stronghold. We could get a few pieces. I heard that great jewels are stashed into Dwemer chests. If only we could find their vault."

Pass the workshop, we entered a dark area. The only things that gave us a little bit of light were the glowing malachite ores that dotted the chamber. This was the Falmer hideout. I squinted my eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness. Sooner, I could make out little tents perched upon the crags of the area. The rocks here were jagged and black. Storeys-high stalactites hung from the ceiling like a great chandelier. A hostile environment for hostile creatures. Karliah raised her hand and gesticulated at us. She pointed towards a clump of Falmer, four of them, gathered at the center of the path that lead down to a bronze door. They were in our way, and hindered our descent.

"Marcurio, go get them," I ordered the mage.

The Imperial sprung forward and shot fireballs from his hands. The Falmer quadruplet scrambled as the fire danced around their feet. They hooted and screeched. The leader with the largest helmet turned its head at us, cried out and raised his spear into the air. The three other beasts charged with flames on their heels. Karliah drew her bow while Brynjolf and I drew our swords. The pale monsters advanced, hobbling quickly with their duck-like unguis. Brynjolf launched himself at one of the snow elves, quickly driving his blade through the monster's shoulder. Black blood fountained out of its scapula as the Nord jerked his sword out. The second Falmer lunged at me with its big black sword. I met it with Chillrend. It glowed bright, electric blue as the blades shrieked. The Falmer opened its pit of teeth and bared it at me like a sabre cat, forcing itself and the sword down on me. I found the window of opportunity to deflect the blade and kick the pale creature square on its chest. At the same moment, it was zapped by one of Marcurio's magic attacks. The Falmer convulsed, fell to the ground with a _thud_. The mage edged towards the dying elf and zapped it more twice for good measure. We had soon finished off the entire horde of Falmer, and sustained but a few injuries.

Now, a Dwemer gate greeted us at the end of the snow elf haven. A bronze bust of a dwarf loomed over the entrance of the doors. Bronze pipes burrowed into the rock face, and the sound of hissing steam once again greeted us. Karliah picked open the door and we advanced into the new level. "Okay, we should follow this path and it will bring us straight down into the Irkngthand Sanctuary. But be warned, at the end of this passage is the guardian…"

We were wary as we passed deeper into Irkngthand. There were signs of Falmer life such as bones of skeevers scattered across the floor and the chitins of chaurus, but none had appeared to us. It seemed they had all been terrified of us, or worse, Mercer. He was a monster that made all monsters cower in fear. When we had reached the end of the passage, to our surprise, we found that the Dwarven Centurion had been ripped apart. Its brass shell was lifeless on the floor, its mechanical arms detached from its body and the sphere that kept it mobile had cracked in half. The doors to the Irkngthand Sacntuary were left slightly ajar. "He's close, I'm certain of it…" Karliah said spitefully. Her demeanor had darkened. "We must prepare ourselves."

My heart started to race. We would face Mercer Frey in all his false glory. This was the moment Karliah had been waiting for for more than twenty-five years.

"So this is it…" Brynjolf said, putting his hand on the door. "We do this for Gallus, and the Guild."

As we entered the sanctuary, the sound of metal on metal greeted us. Like the sound of a blacksmith's hammer on an anvil, it resonated. My eyes widened at the sight of a statue, a great golden statue larger than anything I had ever seen in my whole life. It would have put the White-Gold Tower to shame. It was carved of solid gold, which sparkled even in the dim light, and was made in the image of a Snow Elf, a Falmer, before they were stripped of their identity. The Falmer was positioned with its legs crossed, and a hand raised at the height of his head, as if he was saying, 'hello' or 'stop'. It looked completely peaceful, even if there was something…or someone hacking out at its eyes. The eyes. Two large cuts of solid diamond, as large as a newborn babe, sitting on the eye sockets of the Snow Elf's face. Mercer was there, no doubt about it. He was crawling up the statue's shoulders with a pickaxe in his hands. He continued to hack at the base of the lower lid. Some of it started to give way.

"He's here…he hasn't seen us yet," Karliah said breathlessly. She turned to the red-headed Nord. "Brynjolf, watch the door."

"Aye, lass," Brynjolf nodded lightly. "Nothing will get pass me."

"Solir, climb down the ledge," Karliah ordered me. I slowly edged towards the rim of the cliff to scout the surroundings. "See if you can—"

"Karliah, Karliah!" A loud and impish voice cried out. All our heads turned to the Falmer statue. The little black figure on its shoulder had spotted us. Mercer Frey had seen us from miles away. "When will you learn that you can't get the drop on me?"

The floor started to shake. The rocks began to pop and shake under our feet. My mouth dropped open as I saw cracks start to vein out in the ground, and I was to jump back, and run to safety. But I was too late. The earth under me gave way. I fell along with that chunk of ground I was standing on. A landslide, caused by an unnatural force. I heard my companions cry out my name as I rolled with the rubble. Dirt encased vision. Dust jumped into my throat. A thousand pounds of force was hitting me from every side. I twisted and turned uncontrollably until everything came to a complete stop at the bottom of the bluff.

Still disoriented and barely able to breathe, I could hear Mercer's voice, now louder than ever, and something terribly strong pulling at the hair on my head. "When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind," Frey began, his grip becoming tighter. "And at that moment I knew that it would end with one of us at the end of a blade."

"Mercer…you…bastard," I managed to choke out.

"What has Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the key, or anything to do with the Guild!" Mercer said, leveling a blade to my neck, so close I could feel the cold steel.

"We're here to see an end to you…You have to pay for what you've done to the Guild and to its previous master," I hissed. Then, there was a sudden sting. Frey had nicked the skin on my neck. I could see a bit of my blood on the edge of his sword.

"So it's revenge, is it? You learned nothing from your time with us!" the traitor exclaimed. He was gritting his teeth, trying to restrain himself from slashing my head off. "When will you open your eyes and realize how little my actions differ from yours! Both of us lie, cheat and steal to further our ambitions! It's clear you'll never see the Skeleton Key as I do, as an instrument of limitless wealth! You, on the other hand, fall over your own foolish code! What will you choose, then? Death?"

"Your death," I said, gathering some of my strength, just enough to pull out my blade and give it one quick stroke. Frey was caught off guard as Chillrend, his own blade, cut through the skin of his thigh. His leather armor ripped, leaving a hole gaping with deep red blood.

Mercer Frey grimaced, and got up to his feet, the edge of his sword still pointed at my face. "So, the die is cast! And once again, my blade will taste Nightingale blood!"

Surprisingly, the man gave me some time to recover. I scrambled to my feet, sloppily trying to get into striking form. Gripping Chillrend tightly, I lunged forward. Mercer deflected the blade, parried, and counterattacked with lightning speed. His sword cut through the air, whistling, missing me by an inch. He swung his sword again towards me, but I ducked, and struck Chillrend upwards. This deflected the blade and made the ex-master lose his balance for a second. This sent him back a couple of steps. I scurried up a pile of rocks during that window, climbing to the base of the Irkngthand statue.

Frey, aggravated, activated his Nightingale powers. When he started glowing red, I knew this would be the final leg of the battle. Any miscalculation in steps or in strikes could spell the difference between life and death. I saw him climbing up to the base of the tower to, holding his blade with two hands. I retreated to the other end of the base, holding up my shaking sword. This was no time to be a coward, I told myself. Frey advanced, delivering a two-handed blow. I jumped back and swung my blade, but it did but lightly scratch Mercer's black armor. He laughed at the sight of a swordswoman, who was of much less caliber than himself. I staggered backwards as the evil man sent me a series of continuous blows. I fell towards the legs of the Falmer statue. It rung and resonated like a bell struck at the Temple of Mara when someone is getting married. Mercer's blade cut through my left arm. Blood welled out of a deep gash in its wake. I howled in pain, gripping for my left side. Chillrend fell out of my arms, clattering onto the golden pedestal. The traitor was quick, too quick even for myself.

"Solir!" Karliah's voice echoed. The three of them were far up, out of the pit, unable to reach me or help me. I had to fend for myself for .

"Ugh…" I groaned, as the blood spilled all over my hands. It would not stop bleeding, and stinging. "Damn you, Mercer..."

"Yes! Damn me! Damn me in all of my greatness!" Mercer Frey exclaimed, laughing hysterically. He struck me again, this time below my belt, sadistically twisting his blade like a corkscrew before yanking it out. "And after this is all done, you can say goodbye to your precious Brynjolf and Karliah! May you drown in the pits of Murk with that fool of a goddess, Nocturnal! This will be the greatest heist of history!"

Adrenaline was pumping vigorously through my veins. My last stand—I was stading at the crossroads of life and death. My lungs started to contract. A great burning sensation began to run up my throat. The sounds of a thousand Nord warriors chanting madly surrounded me. "_Dovahkiin! Dovahkiin! Naal ok ziin los vahriin! Wah dein! Vorkul! Maehferaak as vaal!"_ It grew louder and louder, like a great roll of thunder, and the feeling inside of me became stronger and stronger, still. It became uncontrollable, the Voice inside of me. And without my knowledge or consent, I instinctively shouted out: **"FUS RO DAH!"** The mighty blast knocked Mercer back and sent him flying, just as the tip of his sword was an inch from my forehead. Impeccable luck. Frey screamed as he shot through the air, and he hit himself forcefully against one of the jagged rock faces.

No sound came from Mercer Frey soon after. I ran to him, meters away, still heavily wounded, to check whether he was alive or dead. He was face down on the ground. His extremities showed no signs of movement, no signs of life. I bent down and started patting him, trying to search for the Skeleton Key. When my hand had found its place into Frey's backpocket, I felt an item and realize it had been the key. But before I could get it out of Mercer's possession, the man turned around, growling, and locked my wrist with his hand. His black and bloodied hand. Now he had the face of a monster, all torn up and bruised. His eyes were red and his nose crooked like a hargraven. He bared his teeth at me, which I came to realize were all bloodied up. "The key is mine…" he managed to choke out, after coughing out red chunder.

"It is not yours to keep. It is not for anyone to keep."

"Then kill me and be on with it…" He said in a dying voice, as his hand glided up my arm. He pulled me down, whispering into my ear. "Kill me, as I killed Gallus many years ago."

My brows furrowed. "Your fate doesn't belong to me. It belongs to someone else," I told him, yanking myself free from his grasp. I got up to my feet, looking down at him as one looks to the ground to ants. I stepped back. "Karliah."

Frey flinched at her name. I could see hints of fear starting to creep into the white of his eyes.

At that moment, there was a hand to my shoulder. I saw the dunmer's long, slender fingers brush against my right side as she made her way towards Mercer. She walked towards him like a queen, righteous and regal, a passionate fire burning in her eyes. Yet she did not attack him uncivilly. She did not let the monster inside her fester. She approached him, quickly drawing her dagger. She kneeled down next to his moribund shell, and placed a hand to his chest.

"Karliah…could you ever forgive me?" Mercer asked in a soft voice, his eyes glimmering with tears.

"After all you've done? No. But pray that Arkay will be more merciful, Mercer Frey," she said coldly, driving her small blade up his jaw. Mercer's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his mouth flopped open. The traitor undoing had been done.


	25. The Thief Queen

_Author's Note:_

_Hi guys! Sorry for the super long hiatus. I've actually started school now, so I'm finding it hard to do the chapters, but guess what! The next chapter is the final chapter! The ending is nigh! So I want to thank everyone, all readers and reviewers for fully sporting this wonderful story, and I hope you enjoyed Solir and the others. Here, the main Thieves Guild questline ends, and the last leg of Solir's legacy begins. What is in store for our hero? And what is to become of her father, Scipio? Keep on reading to find out!_

_~Airbendergal_

* * *

**Chapter 25: The Thief Queen**

"So it is done," said Nocturnal. "Karliah, you have put an end to the treacherous Mercer Frey."

"My lady," Karliah began, getting on one knee. "With all due respect, I was not the only one who put an end to Mercer. Much credit must be given to Solir and Brynjolf as well. I only ask that you grant them their full Nightingale powers."

The blue orb in front of us began to change shape. From a sphere, it transformed into the figure of a lady. Starting from head, down to her waist, then to her toes. Nocturnal was not a ball, but a woman, swathed in flowing, black silk. She had a face beautiful, but intense, and perched upon her shoulder was a raven of the same dark color. Its eyes were like rubies. The daedric prince had revealed her true form. "So be it, young Nightingales," she said, addressing us. Her voice was no longer like an echo, but of a real person speaking to us. Slowly, she descended from her pedestal, still hovering a few inches off the ground. "For without you, Solir, the Dovahkiin, and Brynjolf, the Guild Master, I would not have accomplished such task. The Skeleton Key, Solir, is in your possession?"

"Yes, my lady," I said, remembering to kneel to keep the formality. "Mercer Frey had intended to use it for his own selfish reasons, as would any thief." I drew the strange, large black key from my satchel, and raised it up for the goddess to touch. I felt her cold, soothing hands brush against mine as she stroked the key.

Her eyes went down to me. "And you. If I were to grant this key to you, how would you use it? Would you open up the world's darkest secrets?"

"I would not use it, my lady. I am a thief by profession, but not by nature," I looked up to meet her eyes. Her irises were the dark purple, like the color of the heavens at night, filled with mystery and beauty. Her gaze was powerful, yet I faced it fearless. The truth had to be told. "No one on Nirn should hold a power this great, Lady Nocturnal. The Skeleton Key belongs to a higher power, one that can comprehend its true potential. None of us want it."

I looked around. Karliah and Brynjolf nodded. "It needs to be destroyed, my lady," Brynjolf added. "It is too dangerous for mortals."

"So be it," her answer was quick, precise. "I shall bring it back with me to Murk. It is but a shame, though, since this item could be used to give the Thieves Guild infinite capabilities. Once in the past, I had sought to bring luck to the thieves, and so I had created the Skeleton Key and given it to the mortal kind. Such kindness I had received in return—the desecration of my temple and a rift between the thieves. No, this will no longer burden your people, guild master, it will stay with me until the time is right."

"You have my thanks, Lady Nocturnal," Brynjolf bowed lowly.

"And now for your powers," Nocturnal said. "I, Nocturnal, a daedric prince, grant you your full Nightingale powers in completion of my task. To you, Brynjolf, I give you the Agent of Subterfuge, that you may use the darkness to cloud others' thoughts and judgments, and use it to our advantage. And to you, Dovahkiin, I grant you the Agent of Strife, that you may draw a cord between you and our enemies, and suck the life force out of them. And as for Karliah, you are now fully restored under my service."

"My lady," all three of us said in unison, kneeling. We were more than humbled.

"Now I bet you are expecting some sort of accolade, Nightingales," she continued, raising up her arms. "A kiss on the cheek? A pat on the back? But what you fail to see is that your completion of this mission was no more but a fulfillment of your agreement as an agent of the darkness. But don't mistake my tone for displeasure…we both know this has little to do with honor. It's about the reward. Is that not correct, Karliah?"

Our low eyes turned to the dunmer, who suddenly got up to her feet. Drawing off her cowl, she let her face be seen by the goddess. What could have Nocturnal have meant by this? What reward? Had there been something that Karliah did not tell us? My eyes turned from Karliah, to Nocturnal. A small smile crawled up on her lips. She had a look set upon her face, as if they had some sort of secret that Brynjolf and I did not know of.

"My lady…" Karliah began. Her eyes were beginning to water, of such sadness I had never seen before. She was trying to fight it back, though. Her voice was weak and hoarse.

"Worry not, Karliah, for he is already with me here…"

Just then, another shade entered the ebonmere, the divine wellspring in the Nightingale Hall's bowels. This shade was of a different color, a spirit of whitish blue. He was donned in a Nightingale suit, and his presence was very familiar. It took me a while to realize who this was, but the moment I did, the very words escaped from Karliah's lips.

"Gallus!" she gasped, weak on her knees. All the caged emotions inside her had suddenly burst out.

"Karliah!" The phantasm approached her, opening his arms. They stood a few feet away from each other, both still in awe.

"Gallus…I was…afraid…" Karliah confessed softly, as tears began to well out of her amethyst eyes. "I thought I would never see you again…I thought…you'd become one of those monsters…" And she began to cry, burying her face in her hands. Gallus was there to hold her, even though he was a spirit, intangible and inhuman. He let her headrest on his shoulder.

"Do not fret, Karliah," the hooded soul told her soothingly as he stroked her back. "I am here now, and everything's alright. If it were not for the actions of your young Nightingale friend, none of this would have happened. She honors us all."

The dunmer pushed herself back a bit, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Where will you go now, my love?" She asked, as her long ears tingled with fear. Her hands were soft on his cape.

"Nocturnal calls me to the Evergloam. My contract has been fulfilled."

"Will I ever see you again, Gallus?"

"In time, my love, when your contract has been fulfilled. We will embrace once again," he said. And with that, he leaned in close and their lips met. Karliah put her hand on the top of his head, and drew back his hood. It was then when I realized why the dark elf had been so drawn to her lover. His face was strong and handsome, and yet showed signs of gentleness. Gallus was everything that Karliah could have hoped for.

Slowly, Gallus started to rise, higher and higher up into the air, as his body began to shift form. Nocturnal joined him up there, as they hung many meters above us. It was too swift, too soon. "Goodbye, Karliah…" were the last words of Gallus Desidenius before the Evergloam had taken the goddess and him.

"Goodbye, Gallus," Karliah said sadly, her waving hand still suspended in the air. "Eyes open…walk with the shadows."

* * *

We doubled back to the Thieves Guild with much haste. Still in our Nightingale attires, we entered the tavern, where the mood was grim and anxious. The first one to spot us there was Tonilia, who quickly ran to the back of the tavern to give everyone a call. All the thieves came running out of the back door in single file, and gathered around us in a semi-circle. They were silent, but their eyes were wide and filled with amazement. I could feel their glares on my very skin.

"Brynjolf, is that really you?" asked Delvin Mallory, craning his neck. He touched Brynjolf's armor, and jerked his hand back. "Bloody good leatha, that. What have you three go'en yourselves into now?"

"Mercer Frey is dead," Brynjolf said, pulling back his hood.

At those words, the group of thieves cheered and clapped. The sad looks suddenly turned into wide smiles. Everyone started shaking hands with each other, and the semi-circle broke into some irregular clump. Even Vex seemed to share a solid handshake with me, for which I felt proud of. When the applaud had died down, the Guild Master raised his hands in the air and said, "Attention, everyone!" The whole cluster fell silent and all eyes turned to him.

"This is not yet a cause for celebration," the Nord master continued. "For we do not have an official guild master. Even if I'm second in command, everyone knows that to select a new leader, we'll need to put a vote on it."

My stomach started to churn.

"Then I vote Brynjolf as new head master!" Delvin chirped. There were some nods and some 'yeah's, but never really a resounding, unanimous 'Yes'. The thieves became more quieted because of this. An awkward silence loomed over the Ragged Flagon.

"Thank you for the nomination, Delvin, but you're picking the wrong man," Brynjolf replied bluntly. "Everyone, don't you see the real master here in the Guild? It's Solir, of course! Look at this woman! Hers is the face of the future! Imagine the endless possibilities the Guild can have if we have her as our Guild Master."

"Erm…uhh…ehh…" The crowd replied flatly. "Yeah…"

"Brynjolf…" Vex started. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure. Everyone, it was Solir herself who defeated Mercer Frey single-handedly. She is the Dragonborn that will lead us all to fortune," the redheaded Nord replied resolutely. "As of this moment, I declare myself no longer Guild Master, and I cast my vote to Solir!"

"The Dragonborn…" said some. "Could the rumors be true... that he coming of the dragonborn…means she must our savior!" The commotion started to turn into a nest of buzzing hornets.

"Alright, are there any more nominations?" asked Brynjolf. Seeing as there was none, he continued. "The floor is now closed. We shall now cast our votes. Votes for Bryjolf, votes for me, say 'I'!"

"I! I!" cried some voices within the thick clump of thieves. Hands were raised, and to my disappointment, very little of them. I could count all of them with one glance. Three hands, one belonged to Vex, the others to two unrecognizable members in the back. I was raising my own hand as well, hoping to shift the tides. "I!"

"That's four votes, tally that," Brynjolf noted. "And now, who is to vote for Solir?"

"I! I!" people said one after the other, on a tone showing little hints of being unsure. Hands were raised into the air like the spikes on a club. Countless numbers of them. It was overwhelming.

I looked over at Brynjolf, who was counting the votes. "That's twenty-eight, Solir," he told me, smiling. I only responded to him with a straight and blank face. It took me much time to process that I had won the voting by a landslide. "Solir, listen to me, you've won the votes."

"Bryn—"

"—no need to thank me, lass," he snapped, as he took my hand and raised it high. "All hail to the new guild master, Solir Ezelino! The Dragonborn, The Thief Queen!"

"The Dragonborn, The Thief Queen!" The thieves echoed and chanted, their voices beating like a war drum. "The Dragonborn, The Thief Queen!"

"The Thief Queen…?" I told myself, staring blankly at the ground. I didn't even know what to say. I was not even worthy of this title…After everything that I had done to them, and everything that I hadn't. If I spoke to them and rallied them on, would they listen? Then, I felt a hand to my shoulder.

"Speech! Speech!" They cried incessantly, pounding their hands.

I snapped out of deep contemplation. I looked up at them, all the faces that were ravaged with mistrust and lies. They needed a beacon of hope. They needed a leader that was not afraid. I had to be their beacon now. All of them were depending on me. I clenched my fist. I tried to find the words, but all I could manage was. "In truth, I don't deserve all your praises, my friends," I told them. "If it weren't for the Guild, then I would still be hell-bent on my own selfish deeds. I know I've committed a lot of mistakes in the past, and I hope that you forgive me. As guild master, I'll do my best to serve…" My eyes trailed to Brynjolf, who fluttered his eyes, signaling me that I had been too formal.

"Oh, gods!" I broke out into a different tone. "As guild, we should work not only as partners in crime, but brothers in fortune! So let's bring this hellhole up into what it's really supposed to be, yeah? Let's make the cistern into the Cave of Wonders. People will tell stories of us, of how the band of thieves stormed across the land, and how the heisted the greatest treasures on Nirn! Let's make people fear us again. Let them believe that we are the gods of riches!"

The whole cistern trembled with the sound of applaud and happy hooting. "Thief Queen! Thief Queen! All hail the Thief Queen!"

Suddenly, Delvin Mallory came and approached me, with a parcel in his hand. I was always wary of him, since he was there to delivery me ominous news. I looked at the paper for a moment, thinking whether or not I should receive it from him or not.

"What do you have for me now, Delvin?" I asked him. A tight knot in my stomach began to form.

Apprehensively, I took it and opened it. While scanning the message written on the paper, Mallory told me. "I 'ate to break it to ye, yer highness, but we've got a very important captive on our 'ands. Our southern watch caught him in the 'elgen 'ighroad. Said 'e came from Cyrodiil. Said 'e was delivering armaments from the capital. They've got him 'ostage in a camp not far from here."

"My father…" My heart stopped. "It could be him."

"What do you say, master?" asked Brynjolf. "What should we do?"

I paused for a while. "We…pay this man a visit," I proclaimed, raising Chillrend. "And if he is Scipio Ezelion, I propose we give him a grand welcoming, Thieves Guild style!"


	26. Hereafter

_Hey everyone!_

_This is the final chapter of The Thief Queen. I would just want to thank everyone for constantly supporting this story. It's been such an amazing experience writing this for you guys. It's pretty saddening that everything's coming to an end. Solir started out as such an inferior character, and to think she'd end up like this! Even I didn't expect it. Haha, it's my first non-FFXII fanfic. I realize there are so much more horizons to discover in fanfiction, so in the future I will try it out. Anyway, just take your time and enjoy this last chapter. Please tell me your thoughts. I would love to hear from you one last time about The Thief Queen!_

_Lots of Love,_

_Airbendergal ^-^_

* * *

**Chapter 26: Hereafter **

I didn't know what was better: the sound of steel on bone, or the deep cry of Scipio Ezelino.

Some of the thieves from Riften accompanied me to the southern camp in the foothills of the Helgen region. Just a few miles from the place where Marcurio and I attempted to catch my father the first time, the brotherhood had set up a campsite under the shade of the evergreens.

The day was slowly receding back into the mountains, and the cold breeze from the Jeralls was blowing in. We had spotted the campfire as soon as our riding group had climbed a steep, rocky slope. My heart was pounding, though not as fast as before. I had felt nothing. Numb, perhaps. Or maybe I was deliberately trying to keep myself calm.

We had entered the circle of tents. There were many faces I had not recognized, but they were our brothers no less. Donned in the same, fine brown leather armor, with cowls and hoods and eyes like steel. They did not talk; their eyes moved and did the talking. When they had seen the three Nightingales, their eyes twinkled with some fear, but nevertheless remained still. One of them pointed to a tree in the distance. Tied to its trunk was a man, bruised. His head sagged down in defeat. It was a position of a broken man.

"Scipio Ezelino," I said, in a voice cold and stern. The man's head turned up, revealing his face, almost unrecognizable. But those eyes of his, those same beady eyes, only told me that he was the one I was looking for.

"Who are you?" he asked, in a rasp voice.

The sound of his voice shocked me. I did not respond. I looked back and signaled Delvin and Brynjolf to untie him from the tree and hold him. They did. Scipio did not struggle. He was too weak to even resist. He could barely keep himself up. He hung from their arms like a blanket from a clothesline.

"What do we do with him master?" asked Brynjolf.

"Make him kneel. Make sure his knees dig deep into the ground," was my first instinct. I made sure my voice was low and unrecognizable to my father's ears. "We wouldn't want him squealing around when we cut his head off."

Scipio gulped. His eyes grew wide in fear. He started to shake. "P-Please!" he cried. "You can take anything you want! You can have all the supplies in the carriage! It's all yours!"

"We don't want your weapons," I snapped. I pointed to the middle of the campsite, next to the blazing fire. The two thieves dragged Scipio along, but this time he has mustered some strength within him to dig his feet into the ground to slow them down.

"Fine! You can take the weapons and the gold!" he exclaimed, in a voice even louder. "You can take everything! That's what you thieves want, right? Money? You can have it…just please!" And when I drew Chillrend from my side and leveled it right next to his neck. "Please! I'll tell you where the rest of the gold is! I'll give you all of the information you need! Please!"

"Whimpering…like a child…like a pig about to get butchered," I commented, as Mallory shoved the blacksmith into the ground. His knees bit into the dirt. "When will you learn that it is not all about gold?" I eyed at Brynjolf. "Hold him steady, Bryn."

I was so ready to strike him down in his place. The two thieves from Riften were holding Scipio Ezelino in place. He, on the other hand, tried to make an absolute fool of himself by attempting to bribe us with his riches. He promised the title to his land, his storage facilities filled to the brim with apothecary needs and maps to the trade routes beyond the shores of High Rock.

Everything was in place. But why was I still hesitant?

"Any last words?" I asked him. There was no reply.

I stood in front of my father, with all the anger in the world burning within my chest, so much that I thought I would have caught fire. I raised Chillrend high…so high that it could cleave a mammoth's head off with one blow. With a strong swing the icy sword came curving down.

Scipio squinted. Screamed.

And as he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that the blade had landed a few inches away from his body. Chillrend had been pinned deep into the earth, little white wisps spewing from its bodice. Still in awe (his mouth had never hung so low), my father looked up at me. His eyes were red, just like the same night many months ago, but this time it was filled with confusion. Plain and utter confusion. And for the very first time in my life, he asked me a question I could not answer. "Why do you hesitate?"

It caught me off guard. It caught everyone off guard.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked him instead, in a faint and shivering voice.

He shook his head firmly, not knowing how to respond to me.

"Then maybe you'll remember this face," I said, ripping off my Nightingale hood.

Scipio gasped loudly. His eyes shot open. "Solir!"

At the sound of his voice, when he called my name, my eyes became watery. I had to stay strong and firm. I could not show my vulnerability. One wrong move could turn the whole tide of circumstance. "I thought that when I'd finally catch you, it would be easy to kill you," I began, as some knot began to form in my throat, making it hard for me to talk. "I thought...I thought getting revenge would relieve me of my anger and remorse…But now that you're finally here I can't get the damn strength to take away your life!"

There was silence.

"But now I realize that taking away your like won't bring back hers!" I continued. I could no longer hold back my tears. I burst. "I realized that nothing can bring her back. No matter what we do, mother is gone…she's gone…Mother's gone…" I buried my face in my hands, crying helplessly. Brynjolf tried to approach me, but Delvin pulled him back, signaling something to him.

"You don't deserve to die, father," I told him, and watched as his face sagged into relief. "You deserve a fate much worse…much, much worse."

"What?" Scipio breathed.

I yanked Chillrend off the ground, and ordered the two men to bring Scipio forward. "Extend his upper limbs over the fire," I commanded. "Tie his arms to the spit." And they did as told.

"W-What are you d-doing to me?" asked Scipio, as his sleeves began to darken with soot. He looked around madly, trying to find some way out of this mess. There was no escape for my father that night. He had to face his fate like the man that he was.

I didn't know what was better: the sound of steel on bone, or the deep cry of Scipio Ezelino. The last thing he saw was the silver streak of the blade before his hands fell off his wrists and plunged into the fire below. He howled as blood fountained from the ends of his arms. The amputated hands darkened, shriveled and turned black in the belly of the flame. "What did you do!" he yelled, still gritting in excruciating pain.

"You told me when I was a child that hands were the only things that sustained us. I cut them off, so that you may never use it to make weapons and harm anyone again," I replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment within me.

"No…no…no!" Scipio cried, staring at where his hands used to be.

"Take him off," I ordered two other thieves from Helgen. They did as commanded. The man fumbled off the spit, his sleeves sprayed in blood. He swayed off the spit, disoriented and stricken with disbelief. He was unbalanced without his hands. My father's life was his hands. Without them he would not be able to manufacture any more weapons. His business would run dry. Without them he would not be able to gamble. But most of all, without his hands, he would not be able to kill. The only reason why he was still alive was that he was still breathing. "Now I ask you again, Scipio Ezelino. Who am I?"

"You are my daughter…" he said with tears worming down his disfigured face. The truth had dawned on him, but moments too late.

"I am no longer your daughter," I told him, grabbing him by the collar. His face was close against mine as I whispered into his ear. "I am now the Thief Queen."

Scipio Ezelino was then released into the wilderness. I watched him as his figure ran off into the distant night. He had left the caravan filled with weapons; he had left his gold. He left with the realization that the only important thing he had to leave with was his life. That was the last time I ever saw my father. Years later people told stories of a madman with no hands living in the woods. Others told stories of a man with no hands hanging from a tree. I never knew which story to believe, but he was no longer part of my life.

* * *

That night, everyone headed back to Thieves Guild in Riften to celebrate my ascension as the new Guild Master. Vekel the Man cooked extra special food that night, which included a variety of venison dishes, rabbit haunches, steaming vegetable soup and wine! Oh how the liquor flowed that evening! Even I had to partake in but a sip, because there was much to be celebrated. The tavern that had seen so much distress had suddenly turned into a place of merriment, just as how a normal tavern is supposed to be like.

"A toast, to Solir Ezelino!" Brynjolf called, raising his tankard frothing in the brim with ale. "To all of her achievements, and to all of the Guild's achievements! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" the crowd roared back, laughing. The metals tins clinked, as the drinks swayed and spilled, and the skeevers crawled between our feet to drink off the mess and join in our joy. "Long live the Thief Queen! Long live the Thief Queen!"

Delvin invited his brother, Glover Mallory, over to the Flagon, and he was our bard for the night. Glover apparently played the lute, and was a very good singer. At some point of the party, the thief Sapphire approached him and they began to talk. They slipped away from the tavern many hours later. Everyone cheered and danced and laughed the night away. Everyone was merry. There was no exception. Even Vex was in a lighter mood than most of the days.

I watched as everyone had a good time. I couldn't help but feel grateful that I had joined the Thieves Guild. As I sat in my chair, by the light of a lantern, eating my steaming venison meal, I could not help but think of what had happened to me in the last few months. If Scipio had not killed my mother, if I hadn't run away…none of this would have happened to me. If Brynjolf did not find me that night, then I wouldn't have known of the existence of the Thieves Guild in Skyrim. I would not have a family. And I sat there in silence, eating my venison, smiling.

There was a hand on my shoulder. I looked back. "Vex?"

The milk-white girl with amber eyes was there, standing in a not-so intimidating position. She was shy at first when she began to talk. "Look…Solir…" she began hesitantly. She decided to pull up a chair and sit next to me. "I…"

I smiled at her good-naturedly. "You don't have to say it, Vex."

"I know, I know," she snapped. "But it's not right. I shouldn't have treated you that way, Solir. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to do so. And…I just want you to know…"

I hung my head. "Yes?"

"I think you'll make a pretty good Guild Master. Just ease up on the cockiness, or I'll beat up your ass, alright?" she chuckled, punching my back lightly. I laughed, receiving the joke well. "I don't think we had a pretty good start, you know? So let's wipe the slate clean and start all over again, yeah?"

"That sounds good," I nodded. Vex extended her hand and I shook it firmly. We shared in a meal of tomato soup together, and she told me about a little bit about her life. After we had finished with the talking and the cleaning up of wares, I asked her. "Were you able to do the thing that I told you to?"

"Yup," she nodded, a little smile flashed on her lips. "You better get going before he thinks you're a no-show. Now go!"

* * *

I ran breathlessly to the Riften docks. The food had barely settled in my stomach, a heavy burden to bear when you are running late on a schedule meeting. I made it to the meeting place to find him there, waiting still, watching the ripples on the water's edge. By some miracle he managed to wait for me, a characteristic unbeknownst to an impatient mage like Marcurio.

"Marcurio!"

The mage turned around, then scrutinized me from head to toe. "Oh divines. You look absolutely haggard!" he exclaimed. I gave him a dirty look, which made him revoke his previous comment. "But haggard looks good on you. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come, Master Solir." And he finished it off with a light bow.

I laughed heartily. "I keep my promises, Marcurio. Thief's honor."

"There is no honor among thieves," the mage said sourly. But then, he smiled cockily, shrugging. "But who knows? Now that you're their leader, things could change. I heard everything, Solir. About Mercer Frey. About your father. It seems you've gone through quite the adventure while I was out. It's a shame I missed it."

"You missed a damn lot," I assured him. The mage grinned.

There was silence. A calm, like the mistys morning on the shores of Lake Honrich. The sound of the swelling water as it splashed against the floorboards amplified, so did the soft chirping of the crickets. The warm lights from the old log houses and the Bee and the Barb pulsed in the darkness. Up above us the night sky drew webs of cosmic pink, purple and blue.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Marcurio said, pointing up to the sky. It didn't take me long to realize that his arm was already resting on my shoulder. This time, I did not mind his gesture. "You won't really notice all the lights when you're out and about on some mission. Sometimes it's good to stop and enjoy the moment. Let all the sights and sounds around you sink in."

I looked up at the night skylights. They were most likely the same ones I had seen on the night of my escape. Looking up at them, I felt contentment, and more so, hope. I did as told. I closed my eyes, breathing in the cold, crisp air, letting the sound of sloshing and chirping play into my ears. After a few moments, his breathing. Then, I felt his lips on mine. For some reason, I never bothered to open my eyes. I wrapped my arms around his torso; we locked into each other's arms. When we withdrew our lips, I found myself in a state of suspension. Everything around us had seemed to blur. Only Marcurio was in focus: his chiseled features ever strong and, for the first time, handsome. My face was hot and red.

"Marcurio, listen," I said, still holding onto his hands. "I invited you here because I never really got to say thank you for all that you've done for me. Your wizardship was a great help."

The Imperial nodded, acknowledging the compliment. "I know, I know, I'm great," he admitted jokingly. "But this is only the start, Solir. Just imagine how things will be like in the future. There are limitless possibilities out there. With you in the Guild, and me in the tavern…" his sentence trailed off the a snicker, but he continued. "But the big question is, what are you going to do next?"

"The guild's mostly self-sufficient at present," I explained to him. "What I'm going to do is find out more about being Dragonborn. That dragon is still out there, and I have got this feeling it has something to do with me. There are voices coming from the Throat of the World. I feel them calling my name. '_Dovahkiin!'_ they cry. People of Riften tell me it's the Greybeards. They know of the coming of Dragonborn. Maybe if I travel there, I will find out how to use this Voice. And…I was hoping that you'd come along for the ride."

Marcurio paused for a moment. My stomach began to plunge as he began to go 'hmm', and stroke his little goatee. He was in deep thought, and perhaps deep hesitation. "The mountains are filled with terrible beasts, and there might be little chances of survival," he noted. "But since you've recently paid my fees, I suppose I could join you once again!" A joke, a playful joke.

"I am glad," I confessed to him, colouring.

"Once more into danger!" the mage exclaimed, grinning.

The future was so filled with uncertainty…that was for certain. Every moment, something happens to us that changes the course of our lives, may it be a little or great event. All decisions that we make will inevitably shape us into who we are. I came to Skyrim four months ago with the intention of leaving my past, and that resulted to the forming of my future. I had come into the province as a cowardly, gullible girl, and I had turned into one of the most respected (or perhaps even feared) of leaders of my time.

Until this day, I still think about the day my mother was shamelessly slaughtered by Scipio. The memories still haunt me and cling to me like a shadow. But from my window, as I watch the people of the Riften marketplace go around and do their own businesses, and spot my son play out in the yard, I feel some sort of hope. Hope for a future not so distant and uncertain. As I end my story, I look back at one of the most valuable lessons of my life which I learned during those four months with the Guild: that friendship, brotherhood and love could never be exchanged for gold and riches.


End file.
